Her soft hands moved over my body, feeling and searching, finding my female places and massaging gently. Her lips found a nipple and the wonderful warmth of her moist mouth made my senses reel in pleasure.
Without thinking, allowing my passions to take over, I rolled over on my back. Lissa followed, greedily returning her lips to my breasts, slipping her hands under my body as my back arched and my hips rotated In demanding urgency.
"Tell me it's all right," she whispered, "tell me it's all right."
"Yes," I said. "Yes, yes, yes!" She went lower and lower, ever lower, and my hips began to move pleadingly, and one word kept spilling through my parted lips. "Yes, yes, yes, yes-."
Then it happened and Lissa was still. I could hear her soft breathing in the darkness and after a moment I pulled her into my arms, cuddling her once again, listening to her sobs, telling her that everything would be all tight.
"This won't change things," I said. "With the boys, I mean."
"That's all right, Nancy. I know you need boys, and I want you to be happy. Please, will you let me be happy?"
CHAPTER ONE
The man and woman strained together, pressing their bodies so close they could have been mistaken for one person. His hands were on her hips and her arms were around his neck and their lips were glued together. Very slowly his hands moved lower and then grasped her firm behind and she didn't resist as he pulled her even closer.
She felt his excitement, the exciting maleness of him, and pulled her mouth away, gasping for air, feeling his hands move suddenly to her breasts. He knew that in a moment there would be no stopping, no turning back, and he pulled away. Knees weak, he peered into her lovely face and saw that her eyes were closed and that her lips were parted. She swayed and then fell forward into his arms. He held her gently for a moment, lovingly, and then he spoke.
"I love you, Nan. I want you to marry me."
She opened her eyes. "You don't have to say that," she whispered. "Please don't say that!"
"I'm serious," he said. The words had surprised him as much as they had surprised her. They had been spoken, though, and he knew they were true. "Will you marry me, Nan?"
"You don't have to promise to marry me to take me to bed, Mel."
"Nan!"
She laughed a little wildly. "See? You don't even know me and you're talking about marriage. Please go, Mel. Please? I'm not what you think I am and if you touch me again I won't-" her words trailed off and he saw tears in her eyes. "Won't what, Nan?"
"Won't be able to wait," she said. Then her hands found him, clutching madly, fumbling with his zipper, and he stood there in shocked surprise.
Then she was crying and her eyes went to his face and suddenly she turned and opened the door to her apartment. He took a step forward and the door closed in his face. One and then two minutes passed and he stood there in the dimly lit hall, his thoughts jumbled, his intense desire seemingly washed away by her strange actions. Then he raised his hand and knocked lightly on the door.
Nan stood with her back against the door, breathing through her open mouth, her breasts rising and falling, the swollen nipples aching, pushing against the confining bra. Her hands clasped her thighs as she heard the knocking, Mel's fist tapping against the door. She even felt the slight vibration and she pushed her buttocks backward, pressing hard against the door, bringing her hands slowly up her body, pausing once, and then cupping her breasts and squeezing hard.
"Let me in, Nan! Please!"
She knew that she couldn't fight it any longer and when she admitted this fact to herself she seemed to relax. Mentally, at least, and she reached for the light switch and then for the door knob. She wanted Mel and she would take him and then she would try to explain. If he laughed or cursed or was disgusted that would be all right, too. He wouldn't be the first. She opened the door.
Mel looked at her white face and then stepped inside. He was nervous and couldn't understand, but he knew that he loved Nan. It wasn't just because she reminded him of Margaret, either. His wife had been dead for almost five years and Nan was the first woman-girl-to cause him to even consider love and marriage.
"I guess you think I'm crazy," Nan said, forcing a smile. "Close the door, please, and lock it."
Mel did as she asked and then turned and faced her. "What's wrong, Nan? Why should I think you're crazy?"
Her hands went to the top button of her white blouse. "I want you now," she said, looking into his eyes. Her fingers flew from button to button and she tossed the blouse aside and reached around and unhooked her bra. The pink-tipped mounds of flesh spilled free, proud and jutting, and she smiled as Mel unconsciously licked his lips.
"I was really serious," he said. "I love you and I want you to marry me, Nan."
She laughed and twisted her body slightly as she reached for the zipper on the side of her dark blue skirt. "We can talk later," she said. "Much later, I hope!" She kicked off her high heels and dropped her skirt and half-slip in one quick movement. She straightened, clad only in brief white panties, and smiled. "Like?"
He frowned. "Yes, but-"
"I thought you would be faster with the clothes bit, honey. The way you were in the hall just now and the way you are now-" her eyes dropped "-makes me wonder if my hopes and expectations "What's the matter with you, Nan!" Mel's handsome face was flushed and his loud voice cut off Nan's words and seemed to bounce off the walls.
"You love me and want to marry me and I'm ready to be taken. On the floor, on the couch, on the bed in the next room, under the bed, or on the ceiling." She quickly rolled her panties down over her hips, over her rounded thighs, down her long smooth legs.
Mel gazed with open admiration at the lovely and naked girl and then his hands went to his belt buckle. He didn't understand, couldn't understand, but his driving passion was taking over his mind and his body. This wasn't the way he had wanted it, had planned it, but if this was the way she wanted it well, maybe he had been a damn fool to commit himself so soon. He was almost thirty, by damn, and here he had been acting like a bashful young kid.
He stood straight, naked and proud, and knew that no matter what happened he had spoken the truth. The beautiful girl watching him with eager eyes could never do anything to change his mind. He loved her and no matter what happened he would always love her. He stepped forward and she rushed to meet him. They clasped each other and sank to the soft carpet, arms and legs entangling, flesh meeting flesh, desire meeting desire.
CHAPTER TWO
Mel Goodwin was a very wealthy man. He had been born with riches, but when he reached his twenty-first birthday he quit college and married Margaret Wilcox. He hated pre-med school, disliked his father V ambitions for him, loved Margaret.
Jason Marcus Goodwin, the owner of vast enterprises, had been unable to cut his son out of his will, but he never talked to him again. Margaret had been born on the wrong side of the tracks and wasn't good enough for his son. To him, it was just that simple, and until his death he kept thinking that Mel would see the light.
Mel's mother had died when he was a very young boy and his father had never remarried. There had always been plenty of young and pretty maids, however, and Mel learned about sex at an early age. Sly observations at first and then in his early teens actual participation. J. M., as his father was called, was like most fathers, though-he was rather strict where his son was concerned. So, Mel still had to be almost as sly as he was when he spied on his father.
J. M. liked to talk and Mel liked to listen even if he did decide later that his father just had a big mouth. Words just spilled forth with no true meaning, but while growing up Mel listened to his father and at times thought he was listening to the Voice of God. J. M. liked to spout off about the wonderful opportunities America offered young people.
Mel found that his father didn't mean girls like Margaret Wilcox. Her father was poor and a nothing, her mother was poor and a nothing-and it just naturally followed that Margaret was a nothing. A beautiful girl, an alert mind, but still a nobody was the way the rich and powerful Jason Marcus Goodwin put it.
Mel never did admit to himself that he hated his father and his smug hypocrisy. He just didn't think about him when he could help it. He and Margaret struggled through the typical American hardships, and it wasn't with any shame that after a year he capitalized on his name, his almost unlimited credit. Everybody knew that it was only a matter of time before he would have his father's great wealth.
He had several jobs that first year. He worked in a gas station, clerked in a men's clothing store, sold insurance. He was happy with Margaret in their furnished apartment and he knew that she was happy. She even continued to be happy when they found out she had the dread cancer. That was when he capitalized on his unlimited credit. He was selling insurance at the time and while she was in the hospital he started his own agency.
Hope is hard to kill and while he wasn't visiting his wife he was building up his business. After six months Margaret died and Mel's hopes died. Living, to him, was just putting in the days and the nights and the hours. And sometimes the minutes. He worked hard, trying not to think, and two months later his father died from a stroke. He went to J. M.'s funeral not because it was his duty, but because he wanted to go. He even cried. And he forgave his father for not attending Margaret's funeral.
His search took him to many places with many women during the next four years. He had finally moved out of the apartment he had shared with Margaret-where he had never taken another woman-and for awhile he lived in the great sprawling house on the huge estate that had been J. M.'s pride and joy. He even went through the bit with the pretty maids. He also had famous or infamous parties, drinking and sexual orgies that went on for days. Until one night he became sick of the whole mess and packed a bag and went to a hotel.
The next morning he leased a penthouse apartment downtown and contacted an employment agency and then went back out to the estate. He threw the drunks out, men and women, and gave the pretty maids pay for an extra month and fired them. That afternoon the employment agency sent out an elderly couple to serve as caretakers and Mel went back downtown and forgot about J. M.'s pride and joy.
There were many opportunities to meet many girls and women. Decent women, rich society women, tramps. Mel continued his search, not knowing for sure what he was looking for, but knowing he would recognize it when he found it. As he had with Margaret. It might be a look, a voice, an action, or just a feeling, an emotion, but he wouldn't settle for anything less. Then he saw Nan Hartford.
The mysterious thing called love, the intangible something that set his heart pounding madly, was instantaneous. Mel had no doubts. It had happened to him before. He had enough sense to realize that he was maybe one in a million; that most men would laugh long and loud if they knew his thoughts. Would ask how he could think he loved a girl, no matter how beautiful, upon first sight? If his life had depended upon it, he couldn't have explained. It was just something that he accepted, almost as some people do not question their religious faith.
He happened to be in his office that day and she came in seeking a job. If there hadn't been an opening he would have created one. In fact, if he had had the nerve he would have asked her to marry him right then. He asked her a few questions, not really paying much attention to the answers.
"My name is Nan Hartford, I'm twenty-two, I've worked in many offices and I'm a good file clerk, an excellent typist, and I can take dictation. I have my social security card and-" at this point she stood up and placed a typed list on his desk "-you will find references on this and I don't like to be chased around desks."
Mel had been day-dreaming, wondering if he should ask her for a date. "I beg your pardon?"
She laughed and remained standing. "I quit or was fired from most of those places on the list, but not because my work wasn't satisfactory. Straying hands, you might say. Are you an office wolf, Mr. Goodwin?"
"Not as a rule," he said, smiling, "but I can understand why you might have problems." He saw her frown. "However, you won't have to worry about anything like that around here. If anyone bothers you just let me know."
"Thank you," she said. "Then I have the job?"
"Certainly," he said, and then went on to explain about the profit-sharing plan-to which she listened with great interest and afterward made several flattering comments. He was pleased with her intelligence, her quick mind, and had to bite his tongue to keep from asking her out to dinner that evening.
She asked if it would be all right to come to work the next morning and he said that it would be and she smiled and left. Mel remembered the address she had given and that night drove his small sports car by the apartment building three times and didn't feel foolish at all. He felt that he had reached the end of his long search.
Nan Hartford was good at office work. All business, but not stuffy, she was friendly with the other help. Mel noticed that even the women seemed to like her, which was some kind of a tribute to her personality. With a body such as hers, so magnificently beautiful, most women, he thought, would have found trouble getting along with members of their own sex. Not, he quickly told himself, that there was any chance that Nan got along too damn well with other women. He was almost certain that her sex-drive would be directed toward men.
For days Mel was content just to be around Nan during office hours. He wondered about her life, her life outside the office, and even considered the fact that she might have a boy friend. He dropped hints now and then, in a friendly way, but Nan was closemouthed about her personal life. The fear that he might lose her, after his long search, finally made him blurt out during the second week that he would like to take her dinner. She surprised him by accepting his invitation.
He took her to dinner three nights in a row and each time he left her at the entrance to her apartment building. During this time they had talked and he had told very little about himself. He was interested in her and talk about himself seemed to him to be a waste of time. She told him that she came from a wealthy family, had gone to college for two years, leaving college and her home because she was bored and restless. She had been engaged a couple of times, but for one reason or another she had changed her mind each time.
"It would have to be you," he said, smiling. "To change your mind, I mean. I don't think any man would change his mind about you."
Her next words puzzled him. "They couldn't pass a test," she said, seriously.
"What kind of test?" he asked.
She laughed. "Just a silly little notion of mine," she said. "Nothing you would be interested in."
"Try me," he said, seriously. "I'm interested in anything and everything about you, Nan."
But she laughed and changed the subject and Mel just about forgot the puzzling bit of conversation. Their fourth dinner date, on a Saturday night, they had gone to a movie afterward and she had invited him up to her apartment for a cup of coffee. He had accepted, gladly, and had impulsively kissed her for the first time while they stood in the lobby of the small apartment building.
She returned the kiss with apparent eagerness and then pulled away and ran up one flight of stairs. Mel followed right behind and at her door she turned and swayed into his arms. The wildness on the floor in the apartment followed.
CHAPTER THREE
The room was dark and Mel listened to the girl's soft breathing and remembered with pleasure the happenings on the floor and then on the bed. The torrid sexual activities had allowed no time for talking and now he felt his readiness again as Nan moved in her sleep. He turned on his side, cuddling the warm body, glad that he was six-two. His dark tan body had been in sharp contrast with the creamy skin as was his black hair.
Lovely, blonde all over Nan, was about five-nine and rather large for a woman, but they were matched perfectly. In all ways, he thought, as he found a large breast with his hand. As he stroked the still swollen nipple she turned, rolling closer into his arms, her soft lips finding his.
"I thought you were asleep," he whispered, moving his lips to her nose, her eyes, her throat.
"I was," she said, moving her hand, laughing. "I thought you were, too."
"That sounds slightly like double-talk," he said. "I love you, Nan."
Her body tensed and she removed her hand. "That's what you said," she said. "That's what the man said."
"And the man meant it with all his heart."
"After the way I acted you can still say that?"
"I think you're just a little mixed-up, honey. After the way you acted I even love you more."
"I was wild," she said, laughing. "You're a little on the wild side yourself. That was the first time in almost two months. How about that? A sexy bitch like me going without it almost two months!"
"Don't say that! Don't call yourself that, do you hear? Don't call my future wife names."
She sat upright. "You're really on a love and marriage kick, aren't you? What gives with you, Mel? Are you trying to kid me or something? Is that the way you get your kicks? Do you have to give out with the love and wedding bells jazz to make it? Is that it?"
"I'm almost thirty and I've told two women that I loved them. I married one and now I mean to marry you."
She laughed. "What happened to the other one? The first one? Did you wear her out?"
"She died."
Nan didn't move and was silent for a moment. Then she eased herself back on the bed. "I'm sorry," she said. "Really. Me and my big mouth."
"It has been a long time," he said.
"Do you want to talk about it? I'm a good listener."
"Not now," he said. "I've been looking for you a long time, Nan. Do you think you could learn to well, care for me?"
She was silent and he raised up and then leaned over and found a nipple with his mouth. The engulfing warmth set her on fire and she tried to remain passive as his lips trailed away from her breast and moved lower. Automatically her hands went to the back of his head and her flat stomach thrust up against his hot tongue.
He stopped, glad it was dark, his hot breath causing her to spread her legs and bring her knees into the air. He moved his body, twisting around until he was between her legs, and all the time she kept a steady pressure on his head. He moved lower and lower and then suddenly stopped again, bringing his hands up and slowly pushing her hands away. Puzzled, she arched her back and rotated her hips, begging with her body, biting her lower lip to keep from screaming her desire.
Mel knew what she wanted and was willing, even eager, but he remembered the words she had used about some kind of a test; a test a couple of men had apparently failed. Maybe she would hate him afterward and he couldn't chance that.
"Do something," Nan said. "My God, do something!"
Mel moved, burying himself in the warm quivering flesh, his hands going to her hard-tipped breasts, his mouth and tongue seeking and finding hers, their rhythmic movements sending them both soaring and soaring. All too soon there was the mutual blending, the glorious explosion.
"I think I'm learning to love you already," Nan said, laughing. And then in the next breath. "I'm hungry as old billy hell!"
"Me, too," said Mel happily. "I mean, I'm starved. You know I already love you."
Nan didn't say anything and Mel waited until he heard her in the tiny kitchen before he got out of bed. He went into the living room and found his clothes and took them to the bathroom. After a hot and then cold shower he dressed and went into the kitchen. Nan had prepared scrambled eggs and bacon and toast and coffee.
"The quickest things I could think of," she said, smiling. "I wasn't kidding about starving."
"Looks good, smells good," he said, seriously. "So does the cook."
She was wearing a thin robe that revealed more than it concealed. "The sex bit always leaves me hungry," she said. She laughed. "Speaking about food for the stomach, of course. Going some place?"
"I don't have to leave?"
"I'm just getting warmed up," she said, sitting down. "Sit down and eat and then later we'll have some more fun." She laughed. "Unless, of course, you don't like to do it on a full stomach."
He didn't say anything, wondering how she could be so sweet one minute and so-so crude the next. She seemed to have a chip on her shoulder. It was as if she had a need to say things to cheapen herself. Not, he told himself, that it lessened his love for her. If anything it even made him enjoy being with her more. He never knew what to expect and she was almost too lady-like at the office.
They both had a second cup of coffee and a second cigarette and they chatted about things at the office. Mel wanted to stay all night and hoped she hadn't changed her mind about having some more of what she railed fun. Not that he didn't think it was fun, but he hadn't really thought of it in that light in several years. Since Margaret it had been little more than a necessary release, an enjoyable experience with just about as much pleasure with one female as another. He decided that it had been 'fun' with Nan, but he was hoping for a meeting of their minds as well.
"I guess you think I'm a screwball for telling you so soon that I loved you and all," he said. "I don't even know how to explain it myself."
"It does sound a little screwy," she said. "You don't really know me from Adam, you know."
He laughed. "I'll have to disagree with you there," he said. "Nobody named Adam could possibly be stacked like you."
"I've always been like this," she said. "Since I was just a kid, I mean. It caused me to get in a lot of trouble, too. A doctor, a psychiatrist, said that maybe in my subconscious I hated my mother, but I don't see how that would make me sexy. Do you?"
"Do you hate your mother?" he asked.
"I never knew her so how in hell could I hate her? Are you rich, Mel? Do you have loads and loads of money? Somebody at the office said you were related to the guy who owns that big outfit called Goodwin Enterprises."
"My father started that outfit," he said. "He's dead, too. Where is your mother, Nan?"
"Maybe she's dead. I don't know. Maybe she's settled somewhere raising kids with a loving husband. Maybe she's peddling it. Did you ever visit a whore house, Mel?"
"Several times," he said.
"I hope my mother didn't end up in a whore house," she said. "Maybe if she did you might have even had her. Wouldn't it be funny if we found out some day that you had had my mother?"
"The place I visited was in Paris," he said. "And a couple in London."
"France? England? If I married you, would you take me to those places?"
"Yes," he said. "I would take you any place in the world you wanted to go."
"You're a good guy," she said. "I think you really mean it." She laughed. "Well, let's cut the sad talk, huh? Ready for a little action?" She stood up and slipped out of the thin robe and cupped her breasts. "Real knockers, huh? You wouldn't think the way I act at the office I would be doing this, would you? The lady-like Nan Hartford poking her boobies out at her boss?"
"How long were you treated?" he asked. "By the psychiatrist?"
"Not very long. Do you think I'm nuts, Mel?"
He laughed. "No, Nan, I don't. I think you might be a little mixed-up. I think you might be trying to drive me away. For what reason, I don't know. Unless it's just that you don't like me."
"Oh, I like you, Mel! Really and truly. Tomorrow's Sunday and there's no work-" she laughed "-naturally, and will you spend the day with me? Tonight, too, of course!"
"Gladly," he said, standing up. He laughed. "You know, in some ways you're just like a little kid. Did you know that?"
"Yes," she said, "I guess I am. I'm in the mood, Mel. Are you in the mood?"
He told her that he was very definitely in the mood and she laughed and darted around the table, saying that she would have to find out for herself. She found that he was speaking the truth and he found that she was almost as strong as a man as he playfully fought her off. He held her tightly and he sensed that she was pleased that he was strong enough to hold her so that she could hardly move. He swung her into his arms and it pleased him that he was able to easily carry the large but magnificently-proportioned girl-woman.
Carrying her into the dark bedroom, he gently lowered her to the bed. As he stepped back to remove his clothes, she whispered for him to turn on the light. Then, after the light was on, she scrambled from the bed, saying that she wanted to help him undress. He was happy to go along with her whim and soon she had him as naked as she. She put her arms around his neck, pushing her breasts against his chest, but keeping the lower part of her body from making contact.
They kissed passionately and his hands moved from her waist, trying to pull her close by clasping her smooth behind. Suddenly she slipped to her knees, her warm hands trailing down his back, finally coming to rest, her fingers digging into his skin. He felt the trembling warmth of her lips and at first he was shocked by their greedy pressure. She looked up at his face, her eyes glazed, and he realized he had been wrong when he had stopped his own earlier actions because of a possible test that he might fail.
He put his hands on her shoulders, gently, and pulled away. She misunderstood and jumped to her feet and hurled herself upon the bed, face down, and started to cry. He moved forward, whispering that it was all right; that he understood. She continued to cry, the sound muffled against a pillow, and he sat down on the side of the bed.
He stroked her smooth shoulders, her back, bringing his hand down to the remarkable smallness of her waist. Then he slipped his hand under her body, the warm flesh of her stomach, and with a quick movement rolled her over on her side. Her eyes were closed and he saw the tears glistening on her cheeks and he was filled with compassion. He remembered Margaret and her self-loathing the first time she had given way to her demanding passion, her spontaneous impulse.
There was the almost certain knowledge that this wasn't the first time Nan had given over to her desire. It gave him a glimmer of hope as he realized that she had stopped only because of what he might think or say. To him, this proved that she at least looked upon him as something more than a mere sex-partner, a fellow-seeker of physical pleasure and joy.
She opened her eyes. "It's all right if you want to leave," she said.
"I don't want to leave, honey."
"That's the way I am and I can't help it."
"It's all right," he said. "Don't worry about it."
"I don't worry about it," she said. "I say I can't help it, but the truth is I don't want to-well, I'm not ashamed, not really. That's the way I am and I've found that there are a lot of people like that and you aren't the first man, you know."
"I know," he said.
"You aren't disgusted?"
"Far from it," he said, smiling. "I'm delighted."
She twisted around and sat upright. "You're serious?"
He laughed. "Baby, you just implied that your wishes aren't original, unimitated. What makes you think I would object?"
"I like that," she' said. "The way you called me Baby, I mean. What was your wife's name and did she do things like that?"
"Her name was Margaret and you're the first girl I've called Baby since she died and the answer to your last question is yes."
She smiled and fell back on the bed. "Do you like it with the light on, Mel?"
Instead of answering with words he acted. He knew they were both sufficiently aroused so that he could dispense with further preliminaries. She gasped with delight as he started his erotic actions. Then she made her move and together they rocketed to the dazzling heights and then leveled off into an almost unbearable haze of pleasure.
Finally, the shifting by mutual consent and without words, and joined, they moved in unison. Words came from her then. Whispered words that filled his heart with gladness. The top, together, and suspended for long glorious moments, and the drifting back to reality, and he waited to see if she would repeat her words.
"I love you," she said.
"And will you marry me?"
"I'll think about it," she said. "I'll tell you tomorrow."
He asked several questions, but she refused to talk. Except with her body and for the time being that was enough.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mel opened his eyes and saw the sunlight streaming through the windows and also saw that he was alone. For a moment he was filled with a vague kind of panic and then smiled as he realized that he was in Nan's apartment, her bed, and knew that she would be back. Soon, he hoped, and he listened, but he could hear nothing. He swung from the bed as he smelled the pleasant odor of coffee drifting from the kitchen.
He slipped his shorts and trousers on and hurried into the kitchen. It was his intention to entice Nan hack into the bedroom even before coffee and his first cigarette. His heart sank as he saw that she wasn't there. Then he saw a note leaning against the sugar bowl on the table. He picked up the sheet of paper and read:
"Honey, I had to go out for a couple of hours, but I don't want you to leave. Please? It's now almost eleven and I will be honest and change that first statement. I don't have to go-I just want to. I'll be back by three or four and if you aren't here I will understand. Before I explain, I want you to have some coffee-it's made-and if you're hungry do eat. Please?
There is something I want you to read and I'm sure you are smart enough to understand without further explanations now. Am I making sense? Anyway, you will find a stack of papers on the coffee table in the living room. Read them. Kisses and stuff. I love you. N."
Mel read the message again and his eyes kept going back to the last three words. He wasn't hungry. Not enough to prepare anything himself, at any rate, and he was anxious to get into the living room and find what he was supposed to read. The electric coffee pot was turned on low and the coffee was hot. He poured a cup, decided to drink it black, took a sip and placed the cup on the table. Why not read the stack of papers, as she had put it, in the kitchen?
He decided she had really meant stack all right. There looked to be at least a hundred pages and if the words hadn't been written in long-hand he would have immediately suspected that it was an author's manuscript. He read the first paragraph, standing, and from almost the first sentence he felt a choking sensation in his throat.
"I guess there are girls who like the sex bit as much as I do, but from personal observations and from my personal knowledge I don't think there are any who like it any better. I mean, it's a real big thing with me and I'm like 'in the mood' most of the time and if that makes me bad then I guess I'm just about as bad as a girl can get. I never really tried to hurt anybody or meant to hurt anybody and that's the truth, but it seems like most people I have anything to do with get all fouled up and if they want to blame me-well, I can't do anything about that. In fact, my shoulders are broad and I'm willing to accept the blame."
Mel sat down on the couch. The words 'in the mood' brought back memories of the night before. Nan had used that expression. He could also tell that the handwriting was like that on the note in the kitchen. He forgot about the coffee he had poured. He began to read.
"The bit about the broad shoulders might not exactly explain what I mean, but I don't claim to be a 'deep' thinker or a damn egg-head. I'm a sixteen year old girl with maybe not so much sense, but I have a body that I'm proud to have and most people agree that I'm stacked like a brick-well, I never did exactly like that expression and never did really understand the comparison. My vital statistics are quite impressive, however. Or maybe I mean my physical assets. Anyway, I measure thirty-nine around my breasts and even more when I'm feeling sexy. Which is usually the case. My nipples tend to poke way out when I'm 'in the mood' and with the risk of being repetitious I'll just say again that I'm usually 'in the mood.'
At some time or other I read about a famous movie sexpot saying she felt blonde all over and I think I know what she meant. Or do I? Anyway, my hair is blonde and my skin is a kind of creamy color. A rich creamy color, I've been told, and when I'm naked and look in a full-length mirror I can certainly see that I'm blonde all over. And I enjoy looking at my body in a mirror.
I'm tall for a woman. Or girl. Five-nine and a fraction. But the rest of my body is in proportion to my large, jutting breasts. My waist is small and my stomach is flat and my hips are just about right and my thighs are firm and full. To keep on telling about my fleshy feminine charms might sound like bragging and would be bragging-so, I'll just say that I have blue eyes, a rather nice nose, and a pair of lips that men find very kissable. And I like to be kissed.
That has been the cause of all my troubles, of course. The fact that I like to be kissed and I like to kiss is the reason I run away. I can stay cooped up just so long and then I have to run. I have to find a man. Men. Sometimes I'm not very particular, either. That's what I meant when I said that I guessed I was a bad girl. I've been told that enough and as thick as my head is I can understand that if you have a fault you have to overcome it or else learn to live with it. I prefer to live with mine.
I spent my younger years in an orphanage and when I was thirteen I went to live with a middle-aged couple. They never had any children and why they picked me I'll never know. I was no longer a child, that's for sure. My body was already ripe for plucking and I was in that foster home less than one week when I got plucked. By a neighbor boy about sixteen. It happened in a car at a drive-in movie and the slight pain was nothing compared to the wonderful pleasure. That's when I really went overboard for the sex jazz and that's what started me on my career of running away.
The boy was little more than an amateur and only succeeded in arousing an intense desire, in my mind and body, to find out how it would be with an older and more experienced male. A man. It seemed logical to me at the time to make a play for the man who had been so kind as to take me out of the orphanage. I felt that it would only be right to repay him for his kindness, but I didn't take into consideration the fact that he looked upon me as a daughter. Or, at least, a thirteen year old girl he had taken into his home.
Even now I find it rather embarrassing to think about that episode. He was very handsome, I thought, and I had sneaked from my room and listened in the hall a couple of times. At night and outside his bedroom door, I mean, and when he was causing his wife to twist and moan and I figured that he would be willing to make me twist and moan, too. In fact, I had done a little twisting in the hall just listening. And had had to bite my lips to keep from moaning right along with his wife.
I thought that if I could just manage to get him interested enough to take me-well, with the practice I had been getting with the boy I figured I could show him a good time. And then there would be a man right in the same house and he could slip into my room and bed at times and I would really have it made. There weren't many chances for getting with the boy and he was scared anyway and he had ignored my hints that maybe if he introduced me to some of his friends he wouldn't have to carry such a load himself.
It was late summer and they had been buying me some new clothes for school and one Saturday afternoon I got what I thought was a bright idea. The wife had left the house to go shopping some place and the husband was in the living room watching a baseball game on TV. I took a bath and got all perfumed and was trying on my clothes and being naked part of the time and looking in the mirror got me all hot and bothered. I strolled from my room and down the hall and into the living room-wearing some new thin pink panties and a matching bra.
Over my arm I carried a brown blouse and a blue blouse and a brown skirt and a blue skirt. It was my idea to casually ask which color looked best on me, of course, and it even seemed silly then, but I did have to have some kind of an excuse. Anyway, I paraded into the living room with my already large breasts thrusting out and swaying my hips like the kid-like hussy I was. He was stretched out on the couch and some jerk had just hit a home run and he didn't even look at me.
After things had quieted down on the TV and a commercial came on I walked close to the couch and he jumped up. Right away my eyes dropped to see if anything else had jumped and I was really disappointed. After all, the neighbor boy could just think about it when he was around me and he was ready and I had just looked in the mirror and I certainly looked sexy to myself. Now I know that he was so startled and later, scared, it was no reflection on his manhood because he didn't respond instantly. To my near-nakedness, I mean.
"I just wanted to see which color you liked best," I said, smiling and blinking my eyes rapidly. My eyelashes were-and still are-very long and I had practiced fluttering them like I had seen some of the sexy movie stars do.
His face was very white and his eyes tried to keep away from my body, but they weren't very successful. "I like both colors," he said, and his face turned from white to red.
"How about pink?" I asked, dropping the clothes from my arm. I turned around very slowly and then stopped, facing him. His face was white again and his tongue came out and licked his lips and I thought I had it made.
"I think you had better go to your room and dress," he said, frowning. "I'm surprised at you, Nancy. I really am. You're too big to be running around like that."
He seemed serious and I couldn't believe that he really meant for me to leave. I laughed and quickly unhooked my bra and let my breasts swing free. I dropped my eyes and still nothing had happened. I looked at his face and his parted lips and I was hot as hell and I cupped my breasts. "I'll bet mine are just as large as your wife's," I said, moving closer. "Feel! And I'll bet hers aren't as firm!"
There was never a chance to find out what he thought about my statements. Before he had a chance to do anything, feel or say a word, his wife was in the room and had hold of my arms and was shaking me like crazy. I remember my breasts jiggling up and down and around and the scenes that followed are hazy in my mind now. The results aren't, though. In less than two hours I was back at the orphanage.
My next experience with a boy was when I was a couple of months over fourteen. Or rather, with two boys. I managed to fun away during visiting hours one Sunday afternoon. The Home, or orphanage, was for girls only-much to my regret, even today. Some of the girls had relatives or friends and they would bring. picnic lunches and all that jazz and the girls without visitors were supposed to kind of keep out of sight. On this particular sunny afternoon I managed to go out the main gate along with a group of exiting visitors.
A couple of young fellows in their early teens picked me up in a car and it was my suggestion that they drive to some woods. I sure had me a time! After about three hours of working them over on the grass they got scared and ran out on me. I hated them for it then, but I guess they couldn't be blamed. I made the mistake of telling my age and that and the fact that they were pooped-well, anyway, I started walking back to town.
It was my intention to try and find an older man and maybe get him to get me a room or something and hide me away from the authorities. By older man I was thinking of somebody in his early twenties, of course. Or even the late twenties. Now I know that the actual age doesn't have much to do with a man's abilities and I've been with some men well along in years who could put some young guys to shame.
But in some ways I never was very lucky. Walking along the highway I flagged the first car that came along and the driver was a deputy sheriff. He was young and handsome and, I thought, very stupid. I made what I thought was a very enticing offer and he told me that he should blister my behind. I laughed and told him that might be fun, but he took me back to the Home. Now I know what I could have done, but I didn't think about it at the time. They had a doctor examine me and I could have threatened the young deputy, of course, and maybe had a few more hours of freedom.
A close watch was kept on me after that. The doctor lectured me and the house mothers lectured me and I talked to some of the older girls and learned a few necessary facts. I guess, come to think of it, I'm lucky in some ways more than I'm unlucky. I remember I started wondering if maybe my mother had been on a sex party with some strange guy or guys and later had me. I've heard and read about babies being left on doorsteps in baskets and all kinds of things, but I'll bet I'm one of the few left in an empty beer case.
When I was fifteen I was allowed to attend the Saturday night dances held either at the Girl's Home or the Boy's Home on the other side of town. Once a month they would have the dances and we figured out all kinds of ways to have a little-or a lot of sex without being caught. Naturally, me being so unlucky in some ways, I got caught at the third dance I attended. This resulted in me being restricted and caused me to run away again.
The dances were held in the recreation hall, but first we would have a big dinner in the dining hall. There seemed to be about one adult supervisor for every boy and girl, but I guess we just imagined that. I do know all those eagle eyes got on my nerves and if I hadn't really wanted to do anything I would have just to show that I could. Not that I wanted to be seen, of course, but we got a lot of satisfaction out of putting something over on the adult eagle eyes.
The dining tables were quite long, seating twenty girls on one side and twenty boys on the other. At both the Boy's Home and the Girl's Home there were three of these tables and most of the chairs would be filled. At each end of the tables there would be a supervisor, male or female or neuter, and the only good thing about the whole deal was the fact that there were table cloths just about reaching the floor. Most of us were very clumsy. On purpose, of course, and there was a lot of dropping of forks and ducking under tables.
Mostly it was the boys diving under the tables for quick looks and quicker feels. And they saw plenty! It's a good thing the supervisors didn't check to see if the girls were wearing panties. I was always glad the boys had enough sense to keep their toenails clipped, too. I remember at my first dinner and dance there was a tall boy sitting opposite me. He was about sixteen and I thought he was just darling. I mean, he was built like a man, with wide shoulders, and his eyes made me feel almost naked. A welcome sensation, I'll admit, and I'll bet he dropped his fork a dozen times.
I didn't eat much food and can't remember what they served. That boy had me fluttering like crazy and a couple of times I dropped my fork. He really looked like a man under the table, too, and I've wondered since what would have happened had the table cloth suddenly been removed. It was all very frustrating and dancing in the recreation hall it was even worse. We were supposed to dance decently, as the supervisors called it, but most of us danced slow and close even to fast music.
The dance band was made up of musicians from the Boys' Home and I always thought they were mean for playing so many fast numbers. Jealous, I figured, because most of the time they didn't get a chance to dance. Unless, of course, there happened to be two who could play the same instrument. I danced with the same boy most of the time. The one opposite me at the dinner table, of course. And we both just about went nuts right there on the damn dance floor. His name was Dave.
"How are we going to manage it, Nancy?" Dave whispered in my ear. "If we were at our Home I know a place where we might hide. For a few minutes, anyway."
I could feel him and I had the sudden almost overpowering urge to start ripping at his clothes right there. My nipples were aching and swollen and my whole body felt ready to explode. And I know he felt the same way. We were so close and yet so far apart. I felt like screaming. I didn't say anything. I didn't know where the hell we could go. I just knew that if he lowered his hand from my waist, touched me in a certain area, it would happen right there. The music stopped and we still had enough sense to stop dancing, to step apart.
"Have you ever done it, Nancy?"
I met his dark, burning eyes. "Yes," I said. "Dave, Dave, I can't stand this! What are we going to do? How? I mean."
"I'll think of something," he said. "I have to!"
"I guess we could go outside, but there are so many lights! If there was just some way you could get into the rest room. The one we use, I mean."
"How about the one they assigned to us?" Dave glanced around and then back at me. "I think that might be it, Nancy. I'll go in there and when you get a chance you slip in and I'll see that all the fellows clear out. We can be alone for a few minutes."
"Somebody might see me go in," I said. "Why can't you slip into the one we use? Do you want me to take all the chances?"
"I was thinking about the other girls that might be in there," he said. "I can handle the boys even if I have to knock a few heads together and the girls would raise hell if I went barging in on them."
"I guess you're right," I said. "I'll ease over by the door and the first chance I get I'll slip inside." I laughed, nervously. "What if-well, what if I walk in on some boy? Will he start screaming?"
"For joy, maybe," Dave said, laughing. "Do you really mean you're game, Nancy? Honest?"
"Sure," I said. "Why not? What if one of the damn supervisors comes in while I'm jn there?"
"There's a kind of closet," Dave said. "With brooms and mops and junk. Maybe we can get in there. Did you ever do it standing up?"
"Just ask me that when I come out of that damn closet," I said, reaching out and squeezing his arm. "Now hurry and take care of the details. And, Dave-"
He had turned to leave. He looked at me. "Yes, Nancy?"
"If you can't get all the boys to leave you don't have to knock any heads together."
He grinned. "Do you mean what I think you mean?"
"Yes," I said. And I meant it. Right at that moment I was really 'in the mood' for some fast and furious loving and I had the feeling Dave wouldn't last very long.
It was rather awkward in the tiny closet, but I soon got the hang of it. And Dave was fast the first time, but it didn't surprise me when he said he would be ready in a very short while. In the meantime we necked and he was very sweet and I liked his kisses, too. We fumbled around and Dave had backed me up against the wall the first time and I had simply raised my skirt, thinking that it was fortunate I had not put on panties. Now Dave wanted to fondle my my breasts and look at my body and I took off all my clothes.
There was one little light bulb in the ceiling and it was dim, but there was enough light for him to really get a good look. I enjoyed watching his eyes, the way he was getting such a bang out of oggling my charms. I got him excited again in record time and was glad he was strong. I scissored my legs around his waist and he braced himself and I did most of the work. He said I was the best he had ever had. I didn't argue. I felt that it was probably true.
"See if there's anybody out there," I said. Dave was leaning against the wall and I knew he was as tired as hell. He looked at me and I laughed. "There is something I have to do, silly!"
"Oh," he said.
There wasn't anybody and I hurried and was soon back in the closet. Dave had closed the door, thinking that I was dressing, but I had moved some of the junk around and had made enough room to sit down on a wooden box. After awhile Dave opened the door and said the coast was clear. I was sitting on the box, still naked, and I laughed and asked for a cigarette.
He entered and closed the door and fumbled around until he found a crumpled cigarette in one of his pockets. We shared the smoke and he wanted to know why I hadn't dressed. I told him that I was just getting warmed up and that it might be a hell of a long time before I got such a chance again. He kind of blushed and said it would take him quite some time to get ready again. I told him that it was only about nine o'clock and the dance was supposed to last until eleven and didn't he have a friend he could trust?
"Sure," he said, grinnnig. "I have several. How many do you want?"
I laughed. "I'll tell you when to stop," I said. "Just see that the supervisors don't catch on. Unless, of course, you know one who might like to get in on the fun!"
"I don't trust any of those bastards and you're too damn good for them, anyway. Say, would you get well, would it make you angry if I made a suggestion?"
"What kind of a suggestion?"
"Money," he said, meeting my eyes. "Some of the fellows have a few dollars. We could pick up some dough for hard times."
I pretended anger, but I was doing some fast thinking. There were a lot of fellows and most of them probably would be willing, but I only had about two hours at the most. There were always thoughts in my mind about running away from the Home and I decided that if I had money it would be a hell of a lot easier. To get along on the outside, anyway. But if I took money and it turned out that not enough of them could or would pay and I only took in a few lousy dollars I knew it wasn't worth it.
By taking money I would become a whore-in the eyes of the boys and the world-and if there wasn't much in it my best would be to just forget the profit and have my fun. It seemed funny to me at the time-and it still does-the way things are in this world. If I had just put out for free most of the guys would just think I was a hot young girl out for fun and pleasure and they would overlook it.
Maybe not respect me or anything, but they would most likely put it down as an unexpected thrill in their young lives and forget it. If I charged, though, I would be a whore and due no respect whatsoever.
It wasn't that I wanted anybody's respect so much. It was just that I was facing an important decision in my own life. How would I feel about taking money? Afterward? Maybe Dave was just kidding, anyway. There probably wasn't ten dollars among the whole damn bunch.
"You're going to need some money for hard times from now on, Dave," I said, frowning. "As of now you're cut off from that stuff you seem to like so well. What do you think I am, anyway?"
He laughed. "I think you're a hot young girl with a beautiful body and a stupid mind if you don't collect some money. What the hell difference does it make, Nancy? Why not have fun and profit? I could see that you were thinking it over and for a minute I thought you were going to say yes. What changed your mind?"
I still hesitated. Finally, I asked, "How much would you want, Dave? Of the money, I mean." I laughed. "Providing, of course, any of the fellows have any money."
"Half," he said. "Does that sound fair?"
Again I laughed. "I guess so," I said. "You know what that will make me, don't you?"
"Sure," he said, laughing. "And I know what it will make me, too!"
"And it doesn't bother you?"
"No." he said. "How about you?"
"You had better hurry," I said. "The dance will be over while we waste time talking."
He grinned and left and I sat there, trying to be patient, anticipating with pleasure the fun to come-and the money that I might use to run."
CHAPTER FIVE
Mel stopped reading. He wanted to think for a moment. There was no doubt that Nancy was his Nan. If she had written the confession-like material when she was sixteen no wonder the sheets of paper looked yellow with age. She had said she was twenty-two, but she hadn't said anything about being in an orphanage. She had also mentioned something about coming from a wealthy family. He wondered how many more lies she had told? Not many, he knew. Mainly because she hadn't said much about herself.
He wondered why she had left him alone to read. Didn't she want to face him? Was she ashamed? That didn't make much sense, though, as on the note in the kitchen it clearly stated that she would be back that afternoon. Where had she gone? She was centainly a sexy girl even in those days. The poor kid. Imagine being left at an orphanage in an empty beer case. His eyes dropped back to the neatly written words.
"I remember I slept better that night than I had in all my life. The next morning I woke up still thrilled with the exciting events that had taken place in the closet. There was a slight feeling of disappointment concerning my share of the profits, but I didn't let that bother me. After all, I had had all that sex and they were just kids, but-as I said-I sure slept good that night. Relaxed and contented. Satiated, I think it's called. Anyway, there was one thing settled in my mind. It didn't bother me because I had taken the money.
There was no attempt on my part to count the number of boys. Who counts at such a time. The important thing to me was that I had all those young bodies eagerly helping me quench my hunger. Some, of course, failed to make the grade and the ones who did were-well, I can't think of a better word than fast. I know I managed to add to my knowledge. I found that it could really be fun sitting on a boy's lap!
My share of the money amounted to twenty-three dollars and thirty cents. At least, that's what Dave gave me. I didn't ask any questions. I was too thankful for the fact that we hadn't been caught and was already looking forward to the next dance. Dave had mentioned that there was a better place to hide at the Boy's Home. He was right. But I had to wait a month to find out. That was one hell of a long month. Naturally, I didn't tell any of the girls about my adventure. I didn't want them trying to steal my thunder!
The recreation room at the Boy's Home was on the second floor. As was the dining room. Both restrooms were on the first floor. One assigned to the girls, of course. I don't know if the supervisors were suspicious or just playing it safe. At any rate, an elderly male was stationed just outside the boy's restroom and a dried up looking female outside the girl's. This, I thought, would really present a problem, but I quickly found out differently. There was a bend in the stairway and at the bend there was a storeroom.
Dave had somehow gotten hold of a key and even had blankets and pillows on the floor. Needless to say, I didn't eat much dinner and I didn't hang around very long on the dance floor. At the first oportunity I installed myself in the storeoom and it was much better than the crammed quarters in the tiny closet. Much, much better. After Dave had released his stored up energy he went back into circulation and I soon had a steady stream of partners. I spent a very happy three or four hours. Who watches a clock at a time like that? I made thirty dollars and fifty cents.
Looking back, remembering, I suppose Dave took much more than his fifty percent. I've found that most people are crooked. Where money is concerned, anyway. And love or love-making. A guy will tell you he loves you just to get in your pants. All lies, of course, but necessary with most girls. Personally, I never felt that a boy or man should tell me that he loved me just to score. 'But I soon found that they even expected me to tell them I loved them. Love! Hell, I loved what they had and what they could do.
Maybe when I get older, twenty or maybe twenty-five, I'll fall for some guy, whatever that means, but in the meantime I like or love them all. Some better than others, since I'm being honest, but I never found a male yet who didn't have some good points. If I ever find a man with all good points maybe I'll latch onto him like the hot-pants girls do in popular magazine fiction. Only they call it romance in that kind of stuff and call it a happy ending when the heroine finds true happiness in the arms of some nutty jerk. And is rewarded with a house full of snotty nose brats.
But I digress. The days until the next dance creeped or crept by and I could think of nothing except another wild and crazy night of sex. Hours, anyway. Always in the back of my mind there were thoughts of getting out of the damn Home and finding a man or men and really having an all night session. In a bed, of course. And, maybe, for a week or so instead of just one night. I often wondered if any of the other girls felt that way, but I kept my mouth shut. As I said, I didn't want any of them stealing my thunder at the dances.
One point that I should bring out now, I believe, is the fact that I never had anything to do with the girls at the Home. Sexually, I mean. At the time I didn't even realize the possibilities. Again, being honest, I'll make a correction. There were a few girls, to my knowledge, going for the off-beat stuff, but I never indulged. If that is the right word. Perhaps, I did sometimes think of the possibilities, but the fact remains that I didn't take the not so sly hints cast my way. I pretended ignorance-and that wasn't very difficult to do, as for all practical purposes I was ignorant and innocent in such matters.
Spoken words, suggestive hints, various sights and sounds-yes-made me know that such things did happen, but at the time my sexual impulses and urges were turned exclusively toward men. Boys, I mean, is the word that should be used when speaking of that period. Also, some of my thoughts were turned inwardly and I sometimes practiced the usual girlish habits.
At my third dinner and dance I took myself as quickly as possible to the tiny closet. It was almost like arriving home after a long trip. My entire body felt feverish and as I stripped myself naked I contemplated the coming pleasure with an almost unbearable eagerness. As I waited I stroked my swollen nipples with trembling fingers and my burning thoughts matched the intense fires smoldering throughout my body. Talk about being ready!
The closet door opened and for one dreadful moment I felt like crawling into a corner or a hole and then as my eyes dropped from the man's white face and burning eyes I smiled happily. It was one of the supervisors from the Boy's Home and I thought for a moment he was going to hurl himself upon me. At least, I hoped he would. It turned out to be another one of my unlucky breaks, though. He frowned and told me to get dressed and that I should be ashamed.
"Are you ashamed of that?" I asked, pointing and laughing.
His face turned crimson and he hurriedly closed the door. Left inside and alone I felt like screaming for him to come back. However, as hot as I was, I had the presence of mind to quickly start dressing. There would be hell to pay and I could just see myself being shipped off to the girl's reformatory. What a lousy break, I thought, but I couldn't keep from laughing as I recalled the gleaming passion I had seen in his eyes.
Bright blue eyes and he had been about thirty and large and quite handsome. A six footer, at least, I decided, and I took a seat on the wooden box. Maybe he would be back. Maybe he wouldn't make a report. Maybe he would be my first real man. I sat there and waited to see what was going to happen next. There was no use of me marching out of the damn closet. Let them come and get me.
I stayed in that damn closet for hours. Just waiting. The bastard had locked the door. After the dance was over and the boys had left in their big bus and the girls were in bed the house mother in my dormitory came and let me out. She didn't say a word. She just shook her head from side to side, slowly, and with a" sad look on her face. She was only about forty and I remember wondering if she didn't ever get all hot and bothered.
"I guess I'm in trouble," I said, forcing a smile. "Was the jerk still sticking out in front when he squealed?"
"Did he touch you, Nancy?"
I looked into the kind eyes and thought real fast. Maybe I wouldn't have to take any kind of a rap. I hung my head. "It was awful," I said, keeping my voice low and trying to force tears in my eyes. "He told me to come in here and wait and I tried to protest and tell him I wasn't that kind of a girl, but he promised me a lot of money. I thought by doing it I could help pay some of my expenses around this place and then when he came in here and grabbed me-well, I just couldn't do it." I raised my head. "He did things to me and I got scared and threatened to scream and-" I let my words trail off and again dropped my head.
"Just what did he do, Nancy?"
"He made me take off my clothes and then he looked at me a long time and told me how beautiful I was and that his wife was a cold fish. I guess I kind of felt sorry for him and I let him touch my breasts and he ran his hands all over my body, touching me and squeezing me, and then he kissed me all over my breasts. I was scared and was trembling all over and he told me he wasn't going to hurt me and that we could both have a lot of fun." I raised my head and looked into the kind eyes. "Then he exposed that well, that's when I told him he was an evil man and that I was going to scream. Then he ran and locked me in here."
Of course, I didn't really think she would believe my story. I just felt that I was getting some good practice on a story that I might tell if they started to send me to the reformatory.
"You're lying, Nancy."
"Prove it," I said, laughing. "Sure, you can take me to the doctor and find out that he really didn't go all the way, but I'll bet I can really tell an interesting story about what he did do. Or what I will say he did if you cause any trouble. Who knows about this besides you?"
"Mr. Jenkins saw you come in and then without really thinking came in to investigate. He became quite upset when he realized-anticipated the lies you just told me. He told me and I told him that I would handle it and I will, Nancy. Who were you supposed to meet?"
I felt that I was in the clear and didn't see any reason for any more talk. Apparently, Dave and the other boys had had enough sense to keep out of it when they realized what had happened. There was still the unsatisfied hunger and I almost wished that handsome Mr. Jenkins had waited until after I had had some fun. Even if it had meant getting caught in the act.
"I'm sleepy," I said, smiling. "Mr. Jenkins' hands and mouth all over my body seems to have made me very drowsy. Do such things make you feel sleepy?"
"You're a precocious child, Nancy, and I'm afraid you are going to get into very serious trouble."
"I don't feel like a child," I said. "And I certainly don't have the body of a child. May I go to bed now or do you have other plans?"
"We don't want to have trouble here, Nancy. If you will promise to keep quiet about this I will do the same. It would be a shame to punish all the boys and girls because of you."
"What do you mean?"
"You wouldn't want to have the dances canceled, would you? And that is probably what would happen if I made a report of this."
"I'm willing to forget this whole deal if you are," I said, seriously. "I wouldn't want the dances stopped and I wouldn't want Mr. Jenkins to get into any trouble, but I don't want to be sent to the reformatory either."
She smiled. "I'm glad to see you have compassion for others, Nancy. Very glad. Now run along and we will pretend this whole thing never happened. AH right?"
I smiled, thinking that she had used the wrong word. Passion, rather than compassion, would have been more appropriate. "I've already forgotten it," I said. "Almost, anyway." I laughed. "Mr. Jenkins was ready for action, though!"
She blushed. "Hush, you little hussy! Now get to bed before I change my mind!"
I ran, but not before I saw the little twinkle in her eyes.
Under the circumstances I didn't sleep much that night. Nor the next. I knew I had to figure a way to get out of the Home if only for a few hours. My body was crying out for release. Sex was on my mind constantly. No matter what I tried to think about, what I did, the thoughts were still there. It was summer and there was no school and I didn't even have classes to take my mind off what I craved. Talk about compassion. My heart certainly goes out to all alcoholics and drug addicts. They must suffer the tortures of the damned, too.
But who the hell needed money? I didn't think I would have to buy what I wanted. And I certainly wasn't interesting in selling what I had to offer. So, all I had to worry about was finding a man as quickly as possible. Before I was picked up by the police. It was dark, about eight o'clock, and I had slipped out of the recreation hall where they were showing a movie. I forget the name of the movie, but you can bet your last dollar it wasn't sexy. Maybe five or six or more murders, but nothing more than a chaste kiss or two.
It just didn't seem to be my night. I walked around for almost an hour and not one car slowed up and I didn't meet anybody on the sidewalk. Nothing interesting, anyway. A couple out for a stroll or an elderly woman or a man and wife with one or two or more kids. That shows just how nuts a driving desire can make you. It didn't even enter my mind to be afraid. I didn't think that I might be killed or mutilated. I guess I would have yelled encouragement to a rapist.
The Home was in a kind of residential section and the main part of town, the business section, was about five miles away. Naturally, I headed in the direction of the bright lights. I didn't even have a dime for a bus and I was hoping to hit it lucky before I went too far. I thought I might stand around outside a restaurant or some place like that and flirt with some guy and just let good old mother nature take over. It seems that it should be very easy for a girl to meet a man, but sometimes it isn't.
I kept my eye peeled, of course, for police squad cars. I didn't think I would be missed right away, if at all, but I knew that the police might be curious about a young girl walking by herself. When I said that I might not be missed at all, and as strange as that may seem it was true, I meant that it was possible I wouldn't be reported missing until the next morning at breakfast.
After the movie-and it would last until ten or later-the girls would go to their dormitories. And if the girls near my bed went on to sleep without noticing that I was absent-well, there was even a good chance that they wouldn't report it if they did miss me. After all, the Home wasn't a prison and we didn't have formal bed checks. Mainly, I suppose, because of that high brick wall that they still say nobody could climb. I guess if the desire is strong enough a person can do most anything. And as I have already indicated many, many times, I was a girl with a desire.
Several times I was fooled by taxicabs. I would see the lights on top and I don't know why, because they don't really look like police cruisers, but I would get off the sidewalk and amble across a lawn, acting as if I were at my own house. A couple of times, in my mind, I pretended I was going home for real. But I hasten to add that I'm not bitter or anything like that. About being raised in an orphanage, I mean. How could I really miss what I never had? Besides, I might even dump a kid of my own at a Home some day. If I'm unlucky enough to get caught like my mother probably was.
I know that a man who peeks or peeps is called a Peeping Tom, but I don't know what you would call a peeping girl or woman. Maybe I'm the only one who ever did such a thing, but somehow I doubt it. In any case I looked through a window that night and saw some interesting sights. Maybe I can coin a new phrase and say I was a Peeping Nancy.
Ducking from what I thought might be a police squad car I caught a glimpse of a man and a woman sitting on a couch. It seemed to me they were being rather bold, as the house wasn't very far back from the street and sidewalk, and the shade was up and they were necking. Actually, they were just kissing when I first saw them, but I stopped in my tracks. I started to say, froze in my tracks, but that would be wrong on two counts. I immediately moved closer to the window and I was far from being frozen.
They were on the far side of what I took to be the living room and I had only been watching a few seconds when the girl pushed the man away. It was then that I saw that the girl had a beautfiul face and was in her early twenties. She laughed and I could see that she had said something and then she pointed right at me. So I thought, of course. I turned and got behind a large tree and when I looked again the shade was down. The man had really wasted no time in cutting off my view.
There was a light shining from a window at the side and I hurried around there. On that side of the house there was a vacant lot and I didn't think there was much danger of being seen and, I suppose, the couple felt the same way. The shade was up about six inches and by crouching only slightly I had a very good view. Fascinated and excited, my eyes glued on the couple, my loud breathing audible in my own ears, my heart pounding, I waited impatiently for further developments.
The man was about thirty and dark and I liked his looks and could tell the girl liked his kisses. As I would have, I'm sure. His hands were busy and the girl kept pushing him away and laughing and I thought she was nuts and I was sorry I couldn't hear the few words they exchanged. I figured the girl was teasing him and the more I watched the more I felt that if I were in his place-well, I don't mean that I wanted to be in his place, but I sure as hell would have liked to be in the girl's place. My body was trembling and mentally I was almost in the man's arms and I knew that instead of pushing him away I would have been pulling him closer.
After a few minutes of what I found was only a faked or token resistance the girl started clutching at the man with hands just as greedy and eager as his. It was then that I decided that they had both been building themselves to a high pitch of sexual passion before proceeding with more intimate love play.
The man stood up quite suddenly and laughed and stood looking down at the girl on the couch. Her silk dress was high over her knees and she laughed as he said something. My eyes were on his lips, but I couldn't tell what he said. Dropping my eyes, however, I could certainly tell what he might have said. I was jealous of that girl. Not of her body, for she was really built nice-lovely, in fact-but she had all that straining manhood right in front of her. All she had to do was reach out and there it was. I felt that my body was just as nice as hers and there was no reason for jealousy in that department.
That's the trouble with peeping, spying. You are on the outside looking in and it is damn frustrating. I was even more disappointed and upset and frustrated several seconds later when the girl got to her feet. She took him by the hand and they ran from the room. I felt alone, deserted, almost as if they were friends running out on me. I was angry and sad and sick and even felt a little sorry for myself. I even felt like crying.
I stood there for a few minutes and then ventured toward the back of the house. There was a chance that they might leave a light on in the bedroom. There was no doubt in my mind as to where they were going and what they were going to do. Again I must correct myself. I didn't know exactly what they were going to do, of course, but I was sure as hell anxious to watch. Unnatural curiousity, perhaps, but I have a hunch my various deviations aren't quite as abnormal as they might appear on the surface.
I found the bedroom and they did leave the light on and I did watch. For lagniappe, which is a word used in Louisiana for 'something extra', I learned things that up until that time had been, to me, only hearsay. I gained some first hand knowledge that night and in the process committed myself to the road I seemed destined to travel. Once observed, the actions I witnessed were forever burned into my mind. My body remained outside that bedroom, my eyes stared in wonderment, my presence was unknown, but in my vivid imagination I was in that room. I was on that bed and the active and lovely girl never knew that I shared her passion, her lust, her greediness.
They had only partially disrobed when I arrived. Oh, but I had a perfect view! They had apparently stopped undressing to kiss and to hug and to strain together. The man was bare to the waist and the girl still wore her bra and her panties and her nylons. And her garter belt, of course. Why I say, of course, I do not know. Seldom have I worn the things and that is due to the fact that I seldom wear stockings, but when I do I use a garter just above the knee. Incidental information, I know, but I do know for a fact that most men do not like to struggle with a garter belt. Nor do I.
I remember thinking that if it were I in the bedroom with the handsome man he wouldn't have to struggle with a garter belt or anything else. Under my sweater there was nothing except my jutting breasts with their aching and swollen nipples and under my skirt there was nothing except burning, throbbing flesh. Oh, how I throbbed and how I burned and how I ached and how I wished and wished and wished!
It was necessary then and it is necessary now for me to assume that there were a certain amount of words spoken, aloud, and that there were moans and cries of pleasure from both the man and the girl. Among other things I could see lips moving, forming whispers if nothing else, and it was like watching a silent movie. Not a regular silent movie to be sure, but it was a kind of mystery to me why I couldn't hear a sound through that window, even if it was closed-probably due to air-conditioning. It was just as well, however, as my heavy breathing and later my moans might have been heard by them.
During that hour or so my hands really roamed. Under my sweater and under my skirt and over and around my thighs and over my stomach and over my mouth. And, at the last, clamped high between my trembling legs."
CHAPTER SIX
Once again Mel stopped reading. He wished that Nan-Nancy-was with him right then. He was aroused and could almost picture the scene the young girl had been watching. She could certainly write interestingly enough. He could also picture the young girl on the outside looking in. Apparently, she had been just as large then as she was now. He decided he would have a cigarette and a cup of coffee before reading further.
The coffee he had poured was cold and he poured it down the sink drain. There was a full pack of cigarettes on the table and he lit one and smoked while he forced himself to finish the fresh cup of coffee. He was anxious to find out what happened next. He decided it was almost like reading a story, a novel, and he wondered if Nancy had written it with the intentions of having it published. Already he was thinking of her as Nancy instead of Nan. In a way he felt that he knew the young girl writing about her adventures better than he did the older girl. He hurried into the living room.
They pulled apart, as if by mutual agreement, and the girl stretched out on her back on the bed. As I have said, I had a perfect view. The bed was in the right position and my eyes were on the right level by hunching over slightly-and only several feet separated me from all the torrid action that followed.
In fact, if there hadn't been the pane of glass between us I wouldn't have had to stretch far to touch them.
With the girl's help the man successfully removed the garter belt, but the nylons were left on the long and lovely legs. As he tugged at her panties she rolled her hips helpfully and at the same time raised herself and reached and unhooked the bra. Her breasts weren't as large as mine, but I'll admit that they were nice. The nipples were rather large, I thought, and while mine are more of a pinkish color hers were dark. And she was definitely not blonde all over. I saw that immediately and from the man's reaction, or lack of reaction, I was positive that he had been with her before.
In fact, something about the way they acted caused me to think that they might have even been married. What happened a little later may have something to do with the thoughts that I now have, but I do remember thinking at the time that they were old hands at arousing each other. I also recall that at this point I was quite anxiously awaiting the removal of the man's trousers. He had his shoes and socks off and was quite obviously ready-Oh, how he was ready!-but I soon discovered that he had other things on his mind. Strange, wild things!
The girl was naked and she slipped forward until her hips were on the edge of the bed. Her feet were on the floor and I just knew what was going to happen next. I thought! He still didn't remove his pants. For what he was going to do, was doing, he didn't need that part of his body. I was fascinated. Hypnotized, you might say, or in a trance-like state. He was on his knees between her legs and I remember wondering how he could breath.
My eyes went to the girl's face and I had never seen such pure enjoyment, such delight, registered on any person's face before in my life. Not even the boys I had been with had looked so happy and pleased at their most glorious moment or moments. I tried to imagine just what she was feeling, the sensation she was experiencing, the thoughts going through her mind as she put her hands on his head. And pulled him even closer and rolled her body and arched her back and brought her legs into the air. I remember wondering how the nylons she still wore felt against his bare skin. Such little things stand out in your mind at a time like that.
She was propped on her elbows, her eyes wide open, her lips parted. Then I saw another look on her face. A startled look, it seemed, and she said something and the man raised his head. He cocked his head, as if listening, and for one horrible moment I thought they had somehow found out about me. I was positive I couldn't be seen, though, and I was sure I hadn't made a sound. I didn't think about the fact that if I couldn't hear them they certainly couldn't hear me.
My fears were short-lived. My fear of discovery, I mean. They had apparently heard a noise in the house. The front door bell, I decided later, but I couldn't understand then how they could stop their erotic actions so abruptly. I even found myself feeling disappointed. Looking at it from the girl's viewpoint mostly, of course, but I was quite sorry that their actions had stopped.
The girl went to a closet and got a silk robe and put it on. The thin silk clung to her gorgeous body and as she laughed and said something, I wondered why she bothered with the robe. She still looked naked. The man smiled as she went out the door and then he walked over and got a cigarette from the dressing table. I wished like hell I could share his smoke along with what was still so evidently straining for freedom. And my eyes kept going to his full, sensuous lips.
Presently the door opened and another girl walked in. She was short and small and had dark hair. She left the door open and walked over to the man and laughed and said something. He laughed and mashed his cigarette in a tray on the dressing table. The girl, very cute, I thought, reached up and put her arms around the man's neck and pulled him over and they kissed. It was a long and passionate kiss and his hands gripped her small behind. Then her arms came from around his neck and she began fondling him.
The man was the first to break the kiss and the embrace and he held her hands away from his body, laughing and saying something. She laughed and patted him on the cheek and went over and sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat on a chair in front of the dressing table and they started talking-chatting, it seemed to me-and I wondered what on earth they could be saying. And who she was and what had happened to the other girl?
A man appeared in the doorway, said something, and was quickly gone out of my sight. I saw that he was larger and taller than the other man and had curly sandy hair. Then my eyes went back to the girl sitting on the edge of the bed. She was removing her white blouse and she wasn't wearing a brassiere. Her breasts were dainty little things, child-like even, but I knew she was in her twenties.
She said something and motioned and the man stood up and quickly walked toward her. She remained seated on the edge of the bed and he walked very close, between her out-spread legs. Her skirt was pushed up high on her thigh and she put her arms around his waist and started kissing and running her tongue over his stomach. He just stood there, looking down at the top of her head, smiling.
Then the other girl came back into the room, still wearing the clinging transparent robe. She was carrying a tray containing a fifth of whiskey, a bottle of mix, a bowl of ice-cubes, and four glasses. She didn't even glance toward the bed as she took the tray and placed it on the dressing table. As she took her time mixing four drinks I looked back toward the bed. The small girl was still kissing the man's stomach. And he was still smiling.
The tall man entered the room then and went over and took a full glass from the tray, took a sip, placed the glass back on the tray, and then clamly removed his clothes. I was so interested in seeing what he had to offer that I forgot for a moment the other people in the room. Satisfied that he was all man, trying to control my trembling body, my eyes were drawn to the couple on the bed. Rather, the small girl was still sitting on the bed. She was very busy. The man was naked, at last, and he stood there with his eyes closed, apparently finding great joy in what was being done to him.
I couldn't picture myself doing such a thing. I mean, there was no desire for anything like that in my mind. My eyes went back to the other couple. She was sitting on the straight-back chair, the thin robe had been removed, and the tall man was on his knees. She had her hands on his head and she had the same expression on her face that she had had when the other man was on his knees in front of her.
That was some sight. The happenings in that room, I mean. My eyes went from couple to couple and foremost in my mind was the belief that they were wasting a lot of time. My experience with sex, I knew then, had been rather innocent. Compared to what I was witnessing I was a lilly-white near-virgin. The tremendous need was still in my body, though, and I didn't envy the small girl sitting on the bed-at the moment-but I wouldn't have minded being in the other girl's place.
The small girl stopped her actions and I was rather ignorant about such things, but I was sure there hadn't been such a waste as I first thought. They must have had plenty of experience to know when to stop, I decided, and as the man slipped to his knees, I wondered when I was going to see what I considered real action. My eyes went from girl to girl, watching their faces, and I imagine some of their passion and lust was mirrored in mine.
After awhile I felt that it was going to happen to me. Like in a dream when you're sleeping and without any, outside help at all it happens. I wanted to fall to the ground, the soft grass, and raise my skirt and wave my legs in the air. I felt that I could die right then, right there, if only I could have a man or men first.
I turned from the window, the sights, and blindly staggered off toward the street. It seemed that I would die if I couldn't do something, couldn't find somebody to give me relief. Near the sidewalk I leaned against a tree, choking back sobs, telling myself I was going crazy, hugging the tree, pressing my body against the rough bark. Scenes, visions, pictures of what I had watched danced before my eyes. I left the tree and started toward the front door of the house.
I could just ring the door bell and those nutty, mixed-up joy-seekers in that damn bedroom might be glad to welcome another nutty, mixed-up would-be joy-seeker. The lights of a car coming down the street snapped me to my senses. At least, partly to my senses. I turned and ran back alongside the house and once again I was near the window. I walked close and looked in and I watched and watched.
During my short absence the scene had changed. Now they were all sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, and holding drinks in their hands. One correction. The tall girl was still wearing her nylons. I wondered if they had completed their love-making. Two things told me differently. Both men were still ready and once again the urge to join them was almost overpowering. I knew now that I would probably have been welcomed. At least, there was a chance, a good chance, that I would have been greeted with sympathy if not complete understanding. One misses so many chances through hesitation, though.
They must have downed three or four high-balls while I waited to see what was going to happen next. My sobbing spell was over and considering the circumstances I was feeling rather calm. It was almost as if I were waiting and resting as they seemed to be doing. I sensed that they were stalling, prolonging further action as long as possible, so as to make it that much more fun later. I did know that I had done that a few times with boys. Only after the action had started, however, as I had never had the time to delay as they were doing.
This was only supposition on my part, of course, and they may have just been enjoying their drinks and their apparent friendly conversation. I still hadn't figured out just who was who. I never did, in fact, but it seemed to me that the couple I had first watched were man and wife and the other two were also man and wife. A rather strange friendship and relationship by any standards, but they certainly seemed to enjoy living-and loving-to the fullest.
Finally, as the last cigarette was extinguished, the last glass was emptied, and they prepared to continue into the next stage of their little sexy drama, my blood began to pound and roar and boil once again. Not that it had really stopped, but it hadn't happened to me and I knew without thinking that at some point I would climax without any physical help whatsoever. I was looking forward to it rather eagerly. Maybe that's what happens to Peeping Toms. I know that's what happened to a peeping Nancy.
By that time I felt that I knew the four people. Really. In my mind the tall girl was Blondie-even if I did know and could see that she used dye-and the small girl I thought of as Tiny. What else? The first man, and I thought of him as Blondie's husband, too-I thought of as Smiley. He had that pleased little smile on his face all the time. Well, almost all the time, anyway. The other fellow I thought of as Sandy. And if I had to name him now I would call him Big Sandy. Not that Smiley had any reason to be ashamed. It was just that Big Sandy was just a little on the freakish side.
Blondie and Tiny were side by side on the bed, naked and lovely, and the men seemed to be having a good-natured argument. At least, they were talking and laughing and waving their arms. It didn't surprise me when Sandy mounted Blondie and Smiley mounted Tiny. I remember thinking that the big man would probably have ruined the small girl and decided that might be the reason for the odd arrangement. The visit and the mixing, I mean. That didn't turn out to be true however. Later they changed around. More than once, in fact.
You can believe this: That active foursome really made that bed bounce. They started out fast. This surprised me. It looked as if after all that stalling they were now trying to get it over with just as soon as possible. The men soon slowed down, though, and rode out the girls' first spasmodic releases. My eyes were everywhere. On the bodies, on the faces, and I clutched myself a couple of times with wild lust.
Most of the time, though, I gripped the window sill until my fingers even ached. Before the men finished they switched partners several times and even so from time to time they would stop and rest. I promised myself that some day I would have such expert bed partners. At the last, as I stood there gripping the sill, and at the time the four of them were in their final explosive moments, it happened to me. As they stopped I fell to the ground, twitching like an actual participant. And, in a way, I suppose I was.
Finally, and it could have been five minutes or fifteen, I got to my feet and looked into the window. The four were once again sitting on the edge of the bed, drinking, smoking, talking. They were still naked and I was sure they were resting and waiting for time to pass so they could have another session. I didn't think I could stand any more, but even as I thought it, I kept watching. My feet just wouldn't take me away from that window.
Soon they started their erotic activities again. This time the men stretched out on the bed, side by side, and the girls did everything except turn them loose. Then the men joined in the fun with their own little tricks and I watched that twisting mass of flesh and bit my lips to keep from screaming. I guess, for a few minutes, I went absolutely nuts, raving mad. Not really raving, I suppose, because I did keep from making a sound. The next thing I knew I was standing on the front porch ringing the door bell. While pushing the little white button the second time I realized what I was doing. I ran.
It may have been one block or five or ten blocks before I stopped. There was a bus stop on the corner and I sprawled on the wooden bench. I was pooped. After awhile, thinking about the near-havoc I may have caused by ringing the door bell, I started laughing. I laughed and laughed. A nervous reaction, I know, but I remember that I was tempted to go back and look in that window again. After a short time I got up and walked on down the sidewalk. Toward the business section, the bright lights, a possible man or men and a sexual adventure of my own.
After about twenty more blocks I was in a richer neighborhood. The houses were larger and were set well back from the sidewalk and the street. They were estates, actually, and most were fenced and the front lawns could be measured in acres instead of foot frontage. I walked along, thinking that some day I would have such a fine home, and I didn't actually picture a husband, but I did picture the male servants I would have. Strong and handsome men and all I would have to do was ask or order.
I could just pull a cord like some of the rich bitches in the movies I had seen and a handsome and eager male would appear. I would do all the hiring, of course, and if there was a husband he would have to approve of anything I wanted to do. If the handsome servants didn't please me or if I got tired of firing and hiring I would have a private little party and if my husband didn't approve he could just go jump in the swimming pool or into bed with the upstairs maid.
It would probably be much better not to have a husband around, though, I decided. I might have to marry some rich man to get the fine home and the money and the handsome servants, but that shouldn't be so difficult. If I found the right rich man I would just hold out on him until he married me. That's the way most girls hooked a husband, anyway, and once I got a little older and really free there would be plenty of men. More rich men, even, and I could just keep repeating the process until I was so wealthy and had so many diamonds I could be interviewed on TV shows.
That didn't seem far-fetched at the time and still doesn't. I'll bet I could name a dozen well-known women practicing much the same thing. I was dreaming and enjoying my dreams when I heard music and laughing and talking. There was a party at one of the large houses I was passing. I stopped and looked and listened. There was a high iron fence, but the driveway gate was open. I hesitated for a couple of seconds and then sailed through that entrance just as if I had good sense. But I still had hot, hot-pants and where there was a party there were men.
The bit about the pants is just a figure of speech, of course. I have already told about not wearing any of the damn things that night. And I'll bet if some of these wise survey jokers turned one of their stupid surveys in that direction-or on that subject-they would find that a great percentage of the females do not wear pants. The young ones, anyway, because panties are not only binding, they are obstacles as well.
There was a large parking space near the house, almost in front, and there were about a dozen cars. The drive was made out of packed shells and I got over and walked on the grass. I could feel the shells through my sandals and, too, there were fairly large pine trees along the drive. The trees were close together and I guess you might say I flitted from tree to tree. It didn't take me long to see that the noise was coming from in and around the swimming pool.
As I got closer I could see that there were about thirty people and most were wearing bathing suits. I didn't count, but there seemed to be slightly more men than women. I didn't realize at the time that there were more people in the bushes and in the house. I do know there were some healthy-looking specimens of manhood around that pool and at the risk of sounding cute or worse they all had a trunk full. Not to mention the fact that they all seemed to be drinking and were being free with their hands around the scantily-clad women. I noticed one young woman was wearing a white Bikini and it was wet and she might as well have been naked.
During this time, while looking over the scene, I had approached quite close to the pool. It was dark and I was behind a tree and there is no doubt that I could have remained out of sight indefinitely. If that had been my wish and it wasn't. I was determined to somehow get in on the fun. How I didn't know and I wasn't much interested in swimming and that kind of fun, but I wanted to join in on that, too. Afterward, of course. I kept seeing couples wandering off into the darkness, under the trees and behind shrubs, and there was only one thing holding me back. My age.
All the people seemed to be in their late twenties or early thirties. A few might have been forty or so. I knew that my body would pass-or I thought it would-but if they got a look at my face they could tell I was just a kid. I certainly didn't want to be scolded and maybe taken by the ear and showed the gate. Or the Home.
I got one of my lucky breaks. At least, that's the way I looked upon what happened next. A young well-built man about twenty-five and wearing black trunks walked straight for me. Or the tree I was standing behind. He was carrying a large water glass and the contents were splashing over the top and his step was not too steady. I ducked my head back behind the tree and started to run, but before I could take more than one step I saw a couple strolling by, hand in hand. They were chatting happily and I knew that if I stood still they wouldn't notice me.
And if the man had seen me and did catch me I though maybe I could talk him into not telling that a stranger was spying upon them. Besides, I wanted to be caught by the dark-haired, muscular man. I stood still. The man hadn't seen me. He had to go. There was no telling how many bathrooms there were in that large house and there were a couple in a building near the patio, but he had picked my tree to hide behind.
He came around the tree, taking his trunks down, and bumped right into me. "Oops," he said. "Sorry!" He had already let go and I jumped back just in time. He turned to the side and I listened to the noise. "I am sorry," he said, turning his head and grinning. I could see his white teeth flashing, reflecting the lights over the pool.
I stepped closer, but not too close, and took the glass from his hand. "I'll accept your apology in return for a drink," I said, laughing. "Okay?"
"Sure," he said, laughing. "This is rather embarrassing, but I'm afraid if I try and stop now and run I'll trip and fall on my face!"
"Take your time and enjoy it," I said sipping the drink. It tasted like straight whiskey. "Don't you mix this stuff with anything?"
"I arrived a little late and I've been trying to catch up," he said. His head was turned from me and I watched as he struggled with his trunks. I thought it a shame to cover those firm-looking buttocks.
"You walked as if you had already caught up," I said. "Or were you staggering like that because you had to-" I let my words trail off and laughed and sipped the whiskey. I liked it. I never had more than a drink of two in my life, but I liked the taste. I liked the warmth it caused in my stomach. It was like a caress on the outside, on my skin. Almost.
He was facing me now, his trunks back in place, his eyes peering, trying to get a good look at my face. "Both, I guess," he said. "My name's Wade." He laughed. "Wade Brooks. My father had a sense of humor."
"I like that name," I said. "I knew a girl named Flo Rivers."
"I think I can top that," he said, laughing. "And this is the truth, too. I know a guy called Lem Peach and if you ask him what Lem stands for he says Lemon. Lemon Peach. That's like-Apple Cherry or-what's your name-I don't know you."
"Nancy," I said "Nancy Doe."
"You're kidding! I didn't think there was really a name like Doe. Like John Doe, I mean."
"I'm like Nancy Doe," I said. "And that is my name."
"I didn't mean to make you angry," he said, seriously. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
"Well," I said, "right now I'm taking about silly names with you and just a minute ago I was listening to you make water." I took another drink from the glass, keeping my head in the shadows.
"I like you," he said. "I can't even see your face and already I like you." He laughed. "The part I can see I love already, Nancy Doe. Who are you with?"
"You," I said. I laughed. "For the moment, anyway. Why don't we take a walk and I'll explain? Away from the crowd, I mean."
"Wonderful," he said. "Let's go!"
He took me by the arm and he wasn't much taller and when I looked, his mouth was almost on a level with mine. We walked until the sounds from the pool were quite faint. He stopped and asked if I would like to sit down. I said that would be nice and I meant it. I was tired from all the walking and running I had done. He sat down beside me, not touching, and I gloried in the wonderful man-smell that seemed to settle around me, to almost caress me. I asked who he was with.
"I came by myself," he said. "Mr. Alexander is my boss and Marsha-Mrs. Alexander insisted that I come." He laughed, rather nervously, I thought. "She usually gets what she wants and right now she seems to want me."
I decided the Alexanders must be the owners of the estate, the host and hostess, and I figured Wade was there to entertain Mrs. Alexander. Marsha, as he had called her. Well, maybe if I worked it right she could take seconds or thirds. "Are you married?" I asked.
"Hell, no," he said. "If I were I wouldn't take on Marsha or any other woman-job or no job. You know how she is, though. She has to sample the men her husband hires." He laughed. "Not that he doesn't play around with-say, maybe I'm speaking out of turn, Nancy. I'm sorry, but you must know how they are or you wouldn't be here."
"I don't know them," I said, laughing. "You see, I'm afraid I'm an imposter and really have no right to be here." I still had the glass of whiskey in my hand and I took a drink and handed the glass to him and eased backward until I was flat on my back. The grass was soft and warm and there was no moon, but the stars were twinkling prettily. A perfect night, a perfect spot for romance, I thought. Only in my mind I didn't call it romance.
"I don't understand," Wade said, after he had taken a drink. "Exactly what do you mean when you say you are an imposter?"
An idea had been spinning around in my head and I started talking, playing it by ear. "I live nearby and I heard the music from the hi-fi and the people laughing and talking and-well, I'm new around here, you see. Wade, to be perfectly honest, I was lonely and I went for a walk and I suddenly found myself turning in at the gate and I had just arrived when you blundered toward that tree." I paused, waiting to see how he would take that little story, wondering if it would be necessary to say more.
He laughed. Then I take it you aren't married either?"
"Heavens, no! I'm not even twenty yet!" .
"Some girls are married before they are twenty," he said, laughing. "Do you have a boy friend? A special, I mean."
He moved closer and I thought he was going to touch me, but he didn't. My breasts were thrusting upward, proud-like, I thought, and I wished he would just stop talking and start some action. "I'm with you," I said, trying to keep my voice low and husky and sexy. "I don't have a steady boy friend and there isn't anybody special and actually I'm only eighteen."
He laughed and stretched out beside me, his head near mine, but he kept a space between our bodies. I resisted the urge to turn over and look and maybe feel and see if he was as ready as I was. He said that it sure was a pretty night and a pretty sky and I said I thought so, too. After that we were both silent and I wondered if he was ever going to get around to making a pass. I decided that if he didn't hurry I would make the first advances myself. Hell, I was getting rather desperate. After what I had watched through that window and now to have a near-naked man beside me on the grass and he was just telling me how pretty the sky was.
He rasied up and finished the whiskey and tossed the large glass aside. Now he will start, I thought. He returned to the same position. "Is it all right if I speak frankly?" he asked.
I wasn't interested in any speaking, frankly or otherwise, but I laughed and said, "Sure."
"I hope I didn't offend you, Nancy. Saying that about Mrs. Alexander, I mean. And I hope she never finds out what I said. I'm supposed to slip away from the crowd and meet her in her bedroom some time tonight and I guess that's the reason I've been drinking so much." He laughed. "Does talk like this offend you, Nancy?"
"Terribly," I said, laughing to show I was kidding. "The way you talk Mrs. Alexander must be an old bag."
"Actually she's an attractive woman," Wade said. "She's only about thirty-five, but I guess I'm just a little scared. You know."
"I don't think I do," I said, sitting up.
He sat up, too. "It will be my first time with her and she has such a reputation for being so-well, hot, and I'm afraid I'll disappoint her."
I turned my head, peering into his face, suddenly wondering if he was kidding me, putting me on. I couldn't see well enough to read his expression or, maybe, lack of expression. Once again I resisted the urge to touch him. I wondered if I had made a mistake in going for a walk with him. Maybe he really wanted to save himself for that damn Mrs. Alexander. Well, there were many more men around the pool.
"I was thinking maybe you would be able to help me," he said.
"What do you mean?" I felt that I knew, of course, but I had waited that long and I figured I could wait a little longer. I wasn't going to put words into his mouth or make the first move. Not unless he tried to leave, anyway.
"I don't think you would have tome back here with me or talked like this if you were-well, innocent, Nancy. You're young, I know, and maybe you just go in for necking, heavy petting, and get your kicks like that, but if I kiss you I'm not going to stop. I've been thinking that if I went with you and-well, it may sound silly to you, but I'm sure I would be able to make a hit with Mrs. Alexander. After you, I mean."
I laughed. "That certainly doesn't sound very flattering, but I think I know what you mean, Wade." I fell backward, once again flat on my back, "You're right, of course. I didn't come back here with you just to talk. Please be gentle with me-" I paused, thinking how he had kept me waiting and how I had been suffering, how he was planning to rush away from me into the arms of Mrs. Alexander "-because I'm a virgin," I finished.
"You're a what?"
He scrambeld to his feet and stood over me and for a minute I thought he was going to dash away. Also, I thought I had gone too far. Strange as it may seem, I've found that some men have a fear of virgins. I reached out and touched his ankle and then trailed my fingers lightly up and down his warm muscular calf.
"I was kidding, Wade. Honest I was, but there really haven't been many." I sensed then, and know now, that some men like to hear those words, too. In fact, most men will believe anything. Probably because they want to and maybe because they are taught as boys to respect women. Most are, anyway. Taught to respect all women, I mean-by a woman, of course.
Wade dropped to his knees and tried to give me help that I didn't need. Hell, I had been taking off my clothes by myself all my life. And that sweater and skirt weren't any trouble at all. Not at all."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mel put the sheets of paper beside him on the couch. He had only read about half and he resisted the temptation to skip over and read the last page. He had been reading fast, but almost an hour had passed. He was hungry and would go fry some eggs and have some more coffee. He wondered if Nancy still felt that she would like to have a rich husband so she could have plenty of handsome servants around?
Well, he was certainly rich enough. But if she still felt that way why would she let him read about it? Maybe the whole thing was fiction. Wild fantasies created in her mind while she was a young girl. It was quite possible she was playing some kind of a joke on him. He had even commented on the fact that she was still like a kid in some ways. If she was kidding him he would blister her lovely behind good! And enjoy it, by damn! If, once he had her in his arms, he didn't forget what he was spanking her for.
He didn't waste much time in the kitchen, gulping the food down as soon as he had it ready. Then he rushed to the living room to continue reading.
To use a terrible pun or something Wade waded right in. He had danced around in the dark getting his swim trunks removed while I did the same with my sweater and skirt. Having only been with young boys before, and knowing that most boys wanted to quickly immerse themselves-to make the basic plunge-it delighted me tremendously when Wade busied himself with my thrusting breasts. He soon had me squirming like an eel and to complete the comparison his hot, darting tongue was like a snake.
First he nibbled at one taut nipple and then the other and then back to the other and it was like he couldn't make up his mind which was best. He was sure enjoying himself, though, and I was like on fire and I sure liked all that nibbling and gentle biting, but it sure was thrilling when he brought his mouth to mine. He could kiss, that man, and I didn't have to be asked to let that wonderful tongue slip past my teeth. Then, of course, my tongue was busy and I started reaching with my greedy hands.
AH this time, and it could have been minutes, but it seemed more like seconds, he had been more or less beside me. I mean, he wasn't on top and he was more like on his hands and knees and he seemed determined to keep his body in such a position that I couldn't reach. Couldn't reach my main goal, I mean, as I had been feeling some flesh myself, of course but that man had the fastest pair of hands I had ever seen-or felt. Here, there, and everywhere, and the fingers squeezed and pinched and massaged and poked, and all the time my body was tossing and twisting like alike a hot young girl. Which I was, as I have said so many times. A hot young girl, I mean.
Then he couldn't seem to make up his mind whether he liked my lips and mouth and tongue better than my breasts, because he kept breaking off our blistering kisses and going back to my throbbing nipples. After trying to devour them he would return to my mouth and after he had repeated those actions I don't know how many times I was really moaning with pleasure and passion and that's when I grabbed and held on. He let out a loud grunt and I didn't know if it was from pain or pleasure and I didn't much give a damn. I was ready and more than ready then and I held on and pulled him to me and I can really be strong in a case like that.
His knees must have slipped or something. He kind of fell forward and down and his face mashed into my trembling belly and his tongue and mouth were just as hot there and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to change positions. Without thinking and automatically, I guess, my hands went to his head and I could feel and hear his hot breathing. Right away there were pictures of what I had seen while looking through that window and I figured I was just about to experience a new kind of fun and really add to my education.
I was wrong, though, and I still don't know if it was his fault or mine. Mine, I guess, because he hesitated there so damn long I just couldn't wait any longer. I moved my hands and pounded on his shoulders a couple of times and tried to tug and I didn't wait for him to take the hint-I told him what I wanted and that I wanted it right then. In fact, I cried out, "Now!"
He was there like an arrow, dead center, and I could tell he was thrilled by and with the target. The target thrust upward, enfolding the entire length of the arrow, and our lips met and glued. Almost instantly it happened to me and then again and then together we moved, a little slower now, and as the arrow expanded even more, a listener would have heard our mutual and mingling cries and moans of unleashed passion.
There was the end for him shortly and the arrow quivered and the target quaked and the combined bursts of explosive energy demolished the arrow and the target continued to quiver. As did my lips and my breasts and my body and my mind. He rolled aside and I closed my eyes and waited for him to say he would be ready again in a very short time and in my mind I re-lived the joyful minutes and the wondrous moments. It was so good to be a woman. Oh, so damn, damn good!
"I don't know what to say, Nancy."
I opened my eyes and looked at his outline there in the near-darkness. I laughed. "Why say anything?" I asked.
"You're as good-the best, I think," he said. "I know you're the best woman I've ever had."
I liked that. Oh, how I liked that. Remember I was fifteen at that time. I wondered what he would say if I told him my real age. I was glad he hadn't, couldn't, get a close look at my face. "You've probably told that to many, many girls," I said.
He laughed and I knew that there weren't going to be any complications. Between the two of us, I mean. He was a man just looking for and taking pleasure where he could find it. "I guess I have told it to quite a few," he said, getting to his feet. "You do have an educated movement that a man doesn't often find, though. Inwardly, I mean."
"I know what you mean and it takes practice to learn," I said. "What are you doing? Where are you going?" The first, at least, was a stupid question. He was putting on his trunks. The second I didn't want to believe. That he was going, I mean.
"Mrs. Alexander," he said. "Remember?"
"You're going to just leave me here like this? Hell, I'm not through!"
Again he laughed. "Duty before pleasure," he said. "And Mrs. Alexander is a duty. Besides, it would be quite some time before-well, I must run along, honey, and thanks a hell of a lot. You were grand and maybe we can get together again some time. Okay?"
I wondered what he could do for Mrs. Alexander right away that he couldn't for me. There were certain thoughts that popped into my mind, but I kept my mouth shut. He wasn't the only man at the party and I did feel that I should at least take a swim if I couldn't find a shower. I decided that there must be a shower room in the building near the patio. The thought was followed by a question and he assured me there was a shower.
"Maybe I could just kind of join the party later," I said. "In fact, I think I could use another drink."
I'm sure you will be welcome," he said. "They are probably all drunk by now, or will be shortly, and won't remember much of anything tomorrow." He laughed. "And that includes the women. Have fun, Nancy Doe, and thanks again."
So, left alone and lonely, I slipped into my sweater and skirt and headed for the shower. Everything worked out just fine. The men and women were drunk by that time and it being such a wild party and all nobody gave me a second thought. About me being a stranger, I mean. Nobody knew everybody else, anyway, and after I came out of the shower nobody paid much attention to my face.
There was a room for the men and a room for the women and I hung around in the shadows under the trees until I knew which was which. It might have been fun to barge into the men's shower room, but even I use a little judgment sometimes and I thought that would be just a little too bold. And, too, I was interested in a shower at that moment. I figured I had a lot of time for the other.
The room was quite large and had several stalls. There were stalls for showering and stalls for dressing and a couple stalls for-well, I ducked into a shower stall and was happy to see that there was a bar of soap. The hot water and then the tingling cold water soon had me ready for just about anything. Only one woman came into the large room while I was showering and she was only interested in one of the couple of stalls way down at the end. She made a lot of noise and I didn't actually see her, but I got the impression she was quite plump if not fat.
There was a large clean towel hanging on a wall rack and after giving myself a brisk rubdown I hesitated about putting on my sweater and skirt. The drinks I had had must have started to reach my brain or something, because I got the crazy idea that I should just run out of there naked and jump into the pool. I slipped my sandals on and stepped out of the shower stall. I carried my clothes in my hands and started looking around. It seemed to me that there should be at least one bathing suit around that place. I knew that if I had been rich enough to live at such a place I would have provided suits for my guests.
I guess I didn't mention that there were lockers along one wall, but there were, and I gave several a quick search. It was one of my lucky breaks, because nobody happened to come in and it didn't take me long to think that I might be accused of stealing. And I saw things that tempted me. Like beautiful dresses and underclothes and purses and I controlled myself and didn't open one purse. Not one.
Then I got the idea that maybe some women had changed and left a suit in one of the shower stalls. In the second stall that I investigated there was a suit all right. Only it was on a woman. She was about my size and looked to be about thirty and she was sitting on the floor sleeping or passed out. It didn't scare me at all that she might be dead or anything like that, because she was snoring. Not very loud, but enough to tell me that she was very much alive. She also had a pint bottle in her hand and it contained about two healthy slugs of Scotch.
The first thing I did was to ease the bottle out of her hand and when she didn't move I drained the Scotch. I wished she had managed to remove her brief Bikini-type suit before drifting off to dream land. I guess it must have taken me ten minutes to get the two garments off her. The part covering the breasts was easy enough, but I thought I never was going to get the bottom part off.
She had very white skin and many freckles and her red hair was natural. The freckles were just about covering her entire body. Except right on her firm behind and I remember wondering if it might not be possible that she had rubbed them off. She certainly looked like the type men would go for. I kept hoping that she wouldn't wake up while I was struggling to get the pants or trunks down around her rounded hips and thighs. It was sure cramped in that small space and I had to get in some rather embarrassing positions as I stripped her.
At least, it would have been embarrassing if she had suddenly asked me what the hell I was doing. I couldn't possibly keep from brushing her firm and warm skin at times and at several points I was dangerously close to being in a position where almost any kind of an accusation would have been difficult to deny. Anyway, it turned out that she wasn't quite as large as I had first thought. On me the Bikini was a couple of sizes too small and when you can say that about that type swimsuit you know there's a lot of flesh spilling out.
My next thought was to hide my clothes in a safe place just in case I had to make a fast getaway. My luck held and I got out of the stall without waking the naked woman and also out of the building without being seen. I hid my sweater and skirt and sandals behind a tree and breezed out of the darkness and off the grass and onto the concrete surrounding the pool just as if I owned the place. I guess the drinks helped, but the desire always on or below the surface would have probably egged me on without the drinks.
There wasn't really any wish in my mind to actually go into the pool. Getting wet and swimming around seemed to me like a hell of a lot of wasted energy that could just as well be saved for something else. It was disappointing in a way that my appearance didn't cause a commotion of any kind. I guess I was expecting and wanting heads to turn my way and loud whispers to sound through the night air asking about me, like I had seen so many times in the movies, and I'll just have to admit that I didn't cause much of a ripple.
Not in the water, because I didn't go in, and not among the people. I sat down on the edge of the pool and let my feet dangle in the cool water and really looked around for the first time. I felt much better. No wonder I hadn't been noticed. Nearby a large and shapely blonde woman was standing and laughing and talking to three or four men. Her breasts were even larger than mine are now and they were bare and as I watched a fat little man reached out and grabbed a handful and she playfully knocked or shoved him into the pool.
He came up laughing and spitting water and my eyes went from him to the far side of the pool. A man and woman were locked in each other's arms and I could see they still had their suits on, but they were certainly going through all the motions. To my right, in the water at the edge of the pool, a man and woman pressed against the tiled side and as the water moved or she moved I could see that her breasts were bare. Men and women were sprawled all about, drinking, smoking, talking, laughing, and necking. I felt even more lonesome.
I didn't see Wade Brooks. I decided he was with Mrs. Alexander and I glanced at the large house. Most of the first floor that I could see was well-lighted and several upstairs rooms had lights. I figured Wade was in one of the upstairs rooms. I wondered about Mr. Alexander and then felt more than heard somebody sitting down beside me.
"Hi! I don't think I know you." The voice sounded young.
I didn't look, thinking that if I kept my face averted he at least couldn't see that I was young. "Hi," I said. "I don't think I know you either."
"I guess you saw me staring at you from across the pool," he said. "You looked kind of alone, you know, and I thought I would come over and say hello. If you don't want to be bothered just say so."
I hadn't noticed him staring at me and I glanced at him and he was older than I thought. Maybe even thirty-five. His eyes were light blue and his brown hair was curly and I got the impression he was kind of short. He had two large glasses in his hands. He seemed to be quite sober.
"I didn't say I didn't want to be bothered," I said, laughing. "I just don't know very many people here and I am alone."
"Well, you aren't now," he said, laughing. "Drink?"
I took the offered glass and put it to my lips. I wondered if everybody at the party liked their whiskey straight. "Just like I like it," I said, smacking my lips. "Who are you?"
"Phil Dunlap and I'm at your service, Miss-"
"Nancy," I said. "Just Nancy."
He laughed. "Okay, Miss Just Nancy, and could you please tell me why such a lovely creature should be alone?"
"I can't tell you why I should be alone," I said, smiling, "but I can tell you why I shouldn't." He didn't seem to think I was so young, I decided. Not the way his eyes were going over my body. Maybe the closefitting bathing cap caused me to look older. And maybe he hadn't really looked at my face.
"Very good," he said, laughing again. "Do you know why I'm alone? I'll tell you. I can't seem to find my wife."
I felt a slight pang of disappointment. I would run into a guy looking for his wife. "That's tough," I said, taking a drink from the glass. "Really." I looked into his eyes and then let my eyes wander down over his bare chest and then rest on his red trunks deliberately for several seconds and then met his eyes. "Have you looked around in the bushes?" I asked, looking away. "Maybe she's lost out there some place."
Again he laughed and I decided he would laugh at anything. "You can bet that if she's lost she has a bottle," he said. "The last time I saw her she was staggering around with a pint of Scotch. Or what was left of a pint."
I hoped he wouldn't recognize the Bikini. "Does your wife have red hair?" I asked. "I saw a redhead with a pint of Scotch."
"That's her," he said. "There's only one thing she likes to do better than drink and she only likes to do that when she's drinking.'
"I was feeling kind of ill not long ago and I was walking around getting some air and I saw her and her bottle sprawled out on the grass." I pointed back over my shoulder. "Out in back and I don't guess her bottle was sprawled, but she was."
"Maybe you could show me," he said. "Where to find her, I mean. She might get a cold out there on the grass."
I wondered if he really would laugh at anything. "She might get a cold," I said, laughing, "but I don't think she will get cold. In fact, she was really helping to generate some heat when I saw her." I looked at him. "And there was another guy hanging around and he seemed to be waiting for his turn to keep her from getting cold." lie did laugh. "That's my hot little wife," he said. "What a man won't do to hold on to a rich wife."
I was sorry for my stupid and unnecessary lie. I caught die note of bitterness in his voice as he made the last statement. I didn't look at him and took another drink. To hell with him. I had just told something about ln's wife that he expected, anyway, and I felt that I should shake him and look around for some fellow who wouldn't want to talk about his wife or anything else. I could talk all I wanted to and more back at the Home. I knew I would be picked up sooner or later and had even started thinking about getting back over that damn wall some time during the night. Not yet, though!
"Maybe you had better look for your wife by yourself," I said. "Have you seen our host and hostess around? Lately, I mean."
"I think Marsha is in her room with a young fellow named Brooks and Lyle had to fly to Washington. Didn't Marsha tell you?"
I forced a laugh that I hoped didn't sound forced. "As a matter-of-fact, I didn't get a chance to talk to Marsha, but I do remember now that somebody mentioned that Lyle had business in Washington."
"Have you known Marsha and Lyle long, Nancy?"
Hell, I didn't even know them short and it was time I told a few more lies. "I live a few blocks from here and just came over for a swim. I didn't know they were having a party tonight and I guess I had better be running along now." I looked at him, but I didn't make a move to stand up. I guess I was hoping he would make a suggestion. I figured he had been looking me over long enough to make up his mind and if he thought his wife was out in the bushes with a couple of men I couldn't see any reason for him to hesitate.
"I didn't think you belonged here," he said. "In the first place you don't look the type to-" he waved his arms "-come to things like this and you couldn't be much more than eighteen "Twenty," I said, smiling. "I'm going to be married in a couple of weeks."
"Oh? I'm sorry." He laughed. "I mean, of course, congratulations!"
I smiled. "You're married, Phil, and maybe you could-well, give me some pointers." I put my hand on his knee, casual-like, and he couldn't keep his eyes from my breasts. "Joe, that's the fellow I'm going to marry, thinks we should wait until we're married until we well, sleep together. You're older and already married and I just wondered what you thought about-" I let my words trail off and looked into his face. I couldn't look into this eyes. His eyes were still fixed on my breasts. I took a deep breath and held it for quite some time. Then I relaxed slightly and waited. For words or actions.
He might have preferred actions, but he used words. "That's a switch," he said. "Usually it's the other way around. The fellow wanting to hop in bed first, I mean. Did you come right out and ask him?"
"Ask him what?"
"To sleep with you."
I kind of dropped my head. "I guess I'm terrible, but I did hint quite plainly that we should try it first. My mother has been married four times and I know she always gives it a try first." I raised my head and frowned, pretending to be puzzled. "That doesn't make sense, does it? I mean, if she did go ahead and try it with the men it seems that she would have stayed married-" I laughed "-you know, she's even going with the butler now! Well, that isn't so bad when you consider the fact that I have to keen kicking her fourth husband out of my bed and room. Do you know what he does. My so-called step-father?"
"No. How could I know?"
"That's right," I said. "How could you know? Well, he has this little hole cut in the wall and he doesn't think I know about it. It's in my bedroom wall-the hole, I mean-and he watches me undress."
"You haven't protested?"
"No. I just keep my door locked and let him look. I parade around naked in my room and jiggling and shaking the way I do I guess he just about goes out of his mind. I mean, lie knocks on my door at all hours and sometimes I don't let him get any sleep. You know. I keep the light on at all hours and kind of tease him with my body and I know he's peeking through that damn hole of his and what do you think he might be doing while he's watching? You're a man-" I dropped my eyes long enough to see that I was really speaking the truth and then looked away
-and maybe you could tell me why he keeps on looking like that."
"I could make several guesses," Phil said, and his voice sounded kind of choked to me.
"Sometimes I think I should give him some, but that wouldn't be right, would it? Besides, I have to think of my mother."
"Your mother seems to be thinking about the butler," he said. He moved a little closer and I decided talking could be fun at times.
"I don't see what she sees in him," I said. "Oh, I know he's a nice looking man, but I've had better."
"You've been with the butler?"
"Just a couple of times, Phil. He practically raped me the first time and the second time I wanted to see-really see by taking my time, you know what he had and I can tell you that I've had better. Really. He's so formal like. You know, as if even naked he has to continue in his role as the butler. Oh, he's very polite. All the time, I mean. Right at the most exciting times he will say, 'Are you ready, Miss?' or 'I think my time has arrived, Miss' or-well, things like that. You know?"
"I think so," Phil said in a weak voice.
"Usually I don't talk much," I said, giving him a smile, "but I seem to be rattling on like crazy with you, Phil. Did you sleep with your wife before you got married?"
"Sleep?" He laughed. "We didn't do much sleeping, but we spent a lot of time in bed. Right after we got married, though, most of that stopped. She has this thing, it seems, about losing her desire for a man once she marries him. I'm stupid, I guess, for staying with her and it won't last much longer, but I'm of the opinion that I'm entitled to some money. If I wait until she gives the word, and don't cause any trouble in the meantime, I'll get a big settlement. She's been married five times, counting me, and she gave number four husband three hundred thousand dollars."
I let out a low whistle. "I guess you can afford to take a hell of a lot for dough like that," I said. "I was lying, Phil. About your wife, at least. I didn't see her in the grass with a man or another man waiting. I came over here without a swimsuit and went in the shower room and she was in one of the stalls passed out. This is her Bikini, in fact."
He laughed. "I wondered why you had all that lovely flesh showing," he said. "I mean, I can see that you wouldn't buy such a small-maybe I had better go see about her, Nancy."
"Okay," I said.
"Were the rest of the things you told lies, Nancy? About your mother and step-father and the butler? About Joe?"
I drained the glass, stalling for time, but also enjoying the sensation as the liquor spread a wonderful warmth all through my body. I wondered how it would be to have the liquor and a man and a bed all at the same time. I decided I would have to watch myself or I would really get myself mixed up with all the lies I had been telling.
"I just lied about your wife," I said. "The rest was-is true. Apparently, she just managed to get her Bikini off and passed out. The water wasn't even turned on. She did have the pint bottle in her hand, though, and I took it and drained the little that was left."
"This Joe," he said. "Do you love him?"
I tried to picture some guy called Joe. I couldn't even remember meeting a guy by that name. "I don't know," I said, "but his parents have a lot of money and mother seems to think that's the most important thing." I laughed. "And you seem to feel that way, too."
"You're wrong," he said. "You make me kind of sad talking like that. I loved my first wife and she died and I was tired of being poor and then I happened into what I thought was the big break of my life and now I don't know. I've wasted three years of my life already and-"
"One hundred thousand dollars for each year and you're complaining?" I laughed. "Besides, your redheaded wife must have something on the ball. I mean, with the beautiful body to toss around you must have some fun!"
"Are you sure she was asleep? She didn't make a pass at you?"
"She was out cold, Phil. What do you mean, make a pass?"
"She likes girls, too. She's always bringing some girl home. She finds them in bars and on the street. Sometimes she brings two at the time."
"I thought-I mean, you didn't seem surprised when I said she was in the bushes with a couple of men."
He laughed. "She's bisexual, Nancy. It doesn't make too much difference with her. Girl, woman, boy, man, she takes them all. Usually mixed with Scotch, of course. Yep, my dear wife is quite a character."
I didn't say anything. I was trying to straighten out the somewhat scrambled thoughts in my brain. Feverish brain, I should say. Our rather lengthy conversation, his warm leg against mine, the drinks, what I could see when I looked, the feel of his eyes on me, the information about his wife-all seemed to jumble together and I couldn't seem to remember just what story, lies, I had told him. I remember there was a thought somewhere-it just seemed to be popping out now and then-that I could maybe go myself and check on his wife. I suddenly got to my feet. He stood up almost as quickly and his eyes were just about level with my chin.
I smiled. "I'm rather tired, I said. "I think I'll go find my clothes and scram for home and a nice soft bed." '
"Alone?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, innocently.
"Will you be in bed with the butler or will you parade around for your step-father or will you finally invite him in tonight?"
"How you talk," I said.
"Maybe you will call Joe and he will come over and finally give you what you want!"
"How you talk," I said again.
The tip of his tongue came out and licked his lips. "I want you," he said. "Don't go, Nancy. Stay! Please?"
I laughed. "Now you are talking," I said. "Now you are talking with some sense."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mel stopped to light a cigarette, but he didn't pause long. He wanted to find out what happened next.
"Phil had enough sense not to grab for me right there. The sudden desire we both had would have probably prevented any stopping once we touched. And I didn't want to roll around there on that damn concrete in front of all those people, anyway. I wanted to get naked and I wanted him naked and I wanted to leave a light on. I wanted to do it right for once and I didn't want to go into the bushes and on the grass.
He could have been four feet tall or seven feet tall or any place in between and I wouldn't have given a damn. He was about five-six, I guess, and like a lot of small men he was well-built and I had already found out that a man's-and here I consider boys in the class with men in some respects-physical qualifications weren't half as important as the old do or die spirit. A little later I found that Phil was All Man with a capital A and a capital M and he really had that old fighting spirit.
Phil told me that maybe I had better go see about his wife. I laughed and told him that if I didn't come out shortly he had better come in and get me even if it was a woman's shower room. For once he didn't laugh and I ran and found my clothes and told him I would hurry. He had waited near the door and now he looked at me with hungry eyes as I started to enter.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing, Nancy?" he asked.
"You can bet your life on that," I said.' I laughed. "Do you think we can find an empty bed?"
"What about Joe?" he asked. "Who the hell's Joe?"
"You're a character," he said. "We'll find a bed even if we have to toss two or three or four naked bodies out on their-"
I laughed and didn't wait to hear any more. The redhead was still sitting in the stall, still asleep or passed out, and still naked. I slipped out of her Bikini and threw it on her lap, covering the reddish triangle, once again marveling at the freckles. The space was small, but there was enough room for me to dress and that certainly didn't take long. It seemed like I was doing a lot of undressing and dressing. Too damn much considering the lack of action when I was undressed.
Our trip to an unoccupied bedroom on the first floor was quick. Although, it didn't seem so to me at the time. Also, it was uneventful and come to think of it that might be the wrong word, too. I sure "as hell wasn't calm. And Phil did grab a fifth of Bourbon from a table as we passed through the kitchen. While I glanced at a man and woman sitting close together at the same table too busy with probing tongues to pay any attention to us.
The room was so luxuriously beautiful I let out a little gasp. Then I remembered that I was supposed to live nearby in much the same comfort and richness. Phil was closing the door and he laughed and I covered by pointing to the enormous bed. I'll bet that damn bed could have held ten people, side by side, and not even touching. The color scheme was a jillion varieties of a lovely basic pink. As was the adjoining bath. The tub looked like a miniature swimming pool. And I guess I used the wrong damn word again. There was nothing miniature about that pink tub and the same goes for Phil. He had his trunks off.
My next move surprised me and even surprises me now. The way I am and all. It seemed 'that I just had to get in that tub even if Phil was standing there rigid, ready, and resolutely-as I watched-started toward me. I learned then, I suppose, that sometimes it is much better to delay and postpone actual contact. It kind of builds up the burning desire and there's a kind of glow that-well, it just builds and builds. Phil, being an experienced man and not a boy, knew my feelings, my thoughts, and kept himself under control. I guess he already knew what I was just learning. About the thrilling fun of deliberate delay, I mean.
I remember I even closed the door of the bathroom. At one point, while enjoying the sensation of the warm water playing about my body, I was tempted to call out for Phil to join me. But I didn't. I emerged from that water with my body pink and almost matching the color scheme of the room and with a glow that matched the glow deep inside my body, my very being. The full-length mirror cast a reflection that I admired without false modesty and this is kind of what I mean when I say that I feel blonde all over. Like the movie star said. Not that I feel, exactly, that I worship my body. I try to leave that to the men-and boys.
Phil was an artist. Really. I mean, it is an art to be able to deliberately go about the various forms of love-making, slowly and surely, giving pleasure to the partner and at the same time remaining detached enough not to spoil the final results. Such divine devotion to a chosen task could be called nothing less than art. Therefore, Phil was a true artist, and to use a rather trite expression, he played my body like a delicate instrument. I admired him for it, I loved him for it, I wanted to show my appreciation. And a little later I did.
There I was, smack in the middle of that enormous bed, feeling downright voluptuous-I guess you could call it-and that was the first time anybody had ever started out by nibbling on my toes. I mean, that was the most, and I guess he thought they were delicious and I know I thought the sensation was delightful. He didn't linger around my toes too long, though. For which I was thankful, of course, being as how I was in such an ecstatic state by that time.
But, as I said, Phil was an artist. And right then I thought he was an artist from way back and I really started squirming around as his mouth and tongue trailed higher. My knees, my thighs, and then suddenly he was feasting on my breasts, my swollen nipples.
"I thought you were going to His hot and moist mouth and darting tongue cut off my words and I grabbed for him, around the neck, and we bruised each other's lips for maybe a couple of minutes. All this time he held his body away from me, suspended just out of reach, and about all I could feel were his warm legs quite high on my hips. His artists hands were busy, though. And how they were busy! I read somewhere about the human body having what they call erogenous zones and that men really knew how to find them.
He soon had all my areas of highest sensitivity stimulated and aroused and the sensations were all blending until my whole body was just one great big jiggling pile of throbbing flesh. Finally, he broke the kiss and went back to my breasts. Most men, artists like Phil and otherwise, really seem to go for breasts. I mean, it's like they are babies again and going home. Which they are, I guess. Going home, I mean.
After awhile he looked up and his eyes looked just as glazed as mine felt. T have to do what my wife likes," he said.
It was a statement, not a question, and I just nodded my head. I knew that he had to do what he liked, too. And I wasn't in a position or the mood to argue. Argue? Hell, I could hardly wait to add to my education. As I said, or should have said, Phil was an artist in many ways. And right then he made me know it.
The sensation was nothing like anything I had ever experienced. It was like maybe I was floating-my body soaring, my very being taking off and leaving my feverish brain behind. I thought I was going to pass out from the tremendous pleasure and I was biting my lips and tossing my head and grabbing his head like crazy. And I arched my back and thrust upward and just as I thought I couldn't bear it any longer he made his move and we began the frenzied motions that I liked-and like-most of all. I was in heaven.
Phil kept me in that special heaven for a very long time and when he had finished we got in that enormous tub together. When I say that he finished I mean that he had to call a temporary halt and I do not include myself in on that statement. I don't think I have ever been 'finished.' Except the times when I have gone to sleep in complete exhaustion and I am still young enough to be able to count those times.
After our leisurely bath we returned to the huge bed and we drank from the fifth of Bourbon. Straight and from the bottle and it was true that Phil didn't need the liquid fortification the second time, but he did the third time. Along with other things. To me, the liquor was just an extra bonus and I don't suppose I really needed it to be introduced to the afore mentioned 'other things.'
There was no begging, no suggestions, no pressure of any kind on Phil's part. Indeed, he even seemed reluctant when I first indicated my wish-and there was no burning desire on my part-to join completely in our mutual search for gratification. It seemed natural that I should give as much as I received and in so doing I really found pleasure in giving him pleasure. Which is true of most things in life, I suppose, as well as in love. Love-making, actually, for my education is yet to be completed as pertaining to so-called real or true love.
So much for my feeble attempt at philosophizing. At least, I had a ball there in my temporary haven or heaven. I think there is a song titled 'It All Ended Too Soon' and if there isn't, there should be. It would make a perfect theme song for me and I strongly suspect many more girls and women in this crazy mixed-up world.
It ended, my adventure with Phil, like this:
"Honey," Phil said, "I have a few things to say and I want you to listen and I don't want you to be angry. Okay?"
"I'm listening," I said, laughing. "And I'm not angry yet."
"First, I think you're delightful and I've enjoyed our-our relationship more than I can really put into words. You made me feel like a young kid again and it took mo hack to when I was a kid and-how old did you say you were, Nancy?"
"Twenty. Eighteen? I don't remember. Our actions and the drinks have me quite dizzy; Really." Which was true. I couldn't, at the time, remember all the lies I had told him or might have told him.
"You have a-a freshness about you only found in the very young, Nancy. Please tell me the truth, honey. It's really very important that I know."
"I'll be eighteen in a couple of months," I said. "What's the difference? Didn't-don't you like my body? Isn't it ripe and ready?"
He groaned. "Then you're under age!" He had been sitting on the edge of the-bed and now he got up and started looking around for his swim trunks. There was a scared look on his face and my heart went out to him. Hell, we had just been as intimate as two persons could be and now he was badly frightened. Even, I realized, afraid of me and what I might say or do. "Relax, Phil! I'm not a child and you of all people should know that!"
"You don't have to worry," I said, sitting up in bed.
He had found his trunks and was putting them on. He didn't look at me. "There are laws," he said. "Laws to protect you from men like me."
I laughed and as he looked I cupped my breasts and pointed the still taut nipples at him. "Maybe there should be laws to protect men from girls like me," I said. "My mother never could remember exactly the date that I was born, Phil. You know. She keeps putting back her age so often she forgets even other dates and ages and I'm sure I've reached the age of consent and now come to mama."
"I had better go see about my wife," he said, a helpless look in his eyes.
I thought about the money he might get from his wife if she divorced him, maybe up to three hundred thousand dollars, and I thought about wanting a ritzy home and beautiful clothes and I guess my eyes narrowed. I fell back on the bed, my head on the pink pillow, my hands still cupping my breasts, and I smiled.
"You didn't cause her to rub all the freckles off her behind, Phil. She must be awake now and having fun with a man or woman and if you can leave me you certainly can't do her any good anyway."
"Just let me go without any trouble and don't cause me any trouble," he said, seriously. "Please?"
I knew I didn't love him and had only loved what he had done for and to me. I didn't have any regrets and it hurt me that he now seemed to regret his part in our torrid affair. I also knew that it was crazy to even dream about a nice home and all the rest at my age. At some future date I might have a chance, of course, but now yet sixteen and thinking about hooking Phil-well, that was just childish and foolish nonsense. I smiled and it wasn't forced.
"I want to thank you, Phil," I said seriously. "I don't want to scare you or threaten you and if anybody ever asks-well, I never heard of you." I laughed. "What did you say your name was?"
He smiled and it was a rather weak smile and I missed his laugh. At first he had been laughing all the time and now after a couple of hours with me he seemed to have lost his sense of humor. Maybe if I told him my real age he would never laugh again. He didn't say another word and I was glad. Words are kind of senseless sometimes. And I guess that was one of those times. He closed the door as he left.
There was the thought that I should get up and get out of the bed and the house and I could almost picture Phil searching madly for his wife, maybe snatching her away from some man or woman and dashing to his car, spinning wheels wildly in his rush to get away from the wanton youngster-me. Then I thought of all the things we had done, .the many deliriously happy moments we had shared, and I dozed. Dozed? Hell, I went to sleep!
There was a voice from far off and it was a woman's voice and I opened my eyes. It was daylight, the sun shining through the windows, and I rubbed my eyes and stretched. Then I looked at the frowning woman. She was very pretty even with the frown, I thought, and I followed her eyes to my naked body. Not knowing what else to do I smiled and asked the time.
"It's time you tell me who you are and what you're doing here," she said, sharply. She was wearing a blue quilted bathrobe, but even so I could see that she had a good shape. Right away I figured she must be Mrs. Alexander. There was a kind of a ring of authority in her voice and I knew she couldn't be a maid.
"Mrs. Alexander?" I asked, making no attempt to cover my body.
"Yes, and who are you and how did you get here and how did you know my name?"
"Which question do you want me to answer first?" I asked, smiling. "Did Wade go home already?"
"What do you know about Wade?"
"I know that he's a one-timer on the grass and I'm curious as to how you made out. How many times, I mean, and you didn't tell me the time, Marsha."
"It's shortly after nine and will you tell me who you are and how you got here? And cover yourself. You make me nervous."
I started to make some kind of a wise-crack and then I saw the funny look in her eyes. I decided I was making her more than nervous. It was almost like having a boy or a man looking at my body only with her I didn't enjoy it. She scared me a little and her eyes started making me nervous. I hopped out of bed and quickly found my sweater and skirt. I didn't waste any time in getting them on. Nor my sandals.
"I'll say good-bye for now," I said, forcing a smile.
"Not until you answer some questions," she said, firmly. "Who were you with last night? In this room, this bed?"
"I lost count," I said. "Maybe six or seven. Who counts?"
"I'm going to call the police," she said.
I believed her. "Seven," I said. "I was with seven men and they all raped me and I'm only fifteen years old. I'll call the police for you, Marsha."
For a moment I thought she was going to strike me. Then she kind of slumped and sat down on the edge of the bed. I seem to have this soft spot for people.
Compassion, I think I called it before. Anyway, it didn't surprise me to find that I was feeling sorry for her. After all, I told myself, I was in her home and she sure as hell hadn't invited me. My head was kind of aching from all the whiskey I had consumed and suddenly I found myself wishing I was back at the Home. Not that I regretted my adventures. It was just that I didn't know where to go, where to run.
I'm sorry if I upset you," I said. "Really, Mrs. Alexander. I only talked to Wade and he thought I was a neighbor and I had too much to drink and I wandered around and I guess I just found this bed and it looked so inviting I just hopped in." I smiled. Brightly, I hoped. "By myself, of course."
She looked a little better. Brighter, more cheerful, I mean. "Did Wade tell you that he-"
"Oh, no!" I interrupted. "Nothing like that! I just overheard a conversation and put two and two together. He didn't touch me, either. Why, I'm a virgin and can prove it!"
She smiled in relief and straightened her shoulders. "Where do you live, honey? What's your name?"
. "My name's Nancy and I live at the Home not far from here and I climbed the wall last night and I heard the music and everything and I had one little drink and I got sleepy and you woke me up and I'm sorry I caused you any trouble, any worry. Please believe that, Mrs. Alexander."
"I think I do believe you, Nancy," she said, standing up. "At any rate, I want to believe you. You're from the girl's orphanage and you ran away last night. What are you going to do now? What can I do?"
"I wish I could just get back into the Home without any trouble," I said, trying to make my voice sound real young and sort of wistful. "You know, without the police knowing about it and not causing you any trouble and all. If I just had somebody to kind of vouch for me. You know. Somebody like you could say they saw me shortly after eight o'clock last night and that I spent a safe and sane night with them and-" I let my words trail off, hoping she would take the hint, take it from-there. She looked smart to me.
T don't think I care to become involved," she said. "You ran away and I think you should suffer the consequences."
I smiled. "On second thought," I said, "there was one man out by the pool last night and he was sure a big strong brute." I made my shoulders shudder, as if remembering with horror a terrible experience. "He poured just about a whole bottle of whiskey down my throat and then he did things to me and he made me do things to him and "That's enough!" she snapped.
"I haven't finished," I said. "After the big brute ravished me, I think there were two or maybe it was four more men and they took turns and I cried and screamed for help and they just laughed and kept banging away." I stopped as her shoulders slumped again and I thought for a moment she was going to sit down on the edge of the bed again.
"You wouldn't dare tell such a story," she said, rather weakly.
"I saw other things," I said. "Things that a fifteen year old girl should never see. Men and women stretched out all over in-in compromising positions and-" I decided I would tack on a clincher "-three or four women tried to do things to me and two did."
"What can I do?" she asked. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"This is a cruel world," I said. "I have to look out for myself. Besides, most of what I say happens to be true. Part of it, anyway."
"You're a little-you're trying to blackmail me!"
"I'm just an innocent girl trying to look out for herself. I don't want any money. I'm just a poor human being asking for a little help."
"I've had enough of this," she said. "I'm going to call the police."
"All right," I said. "And you had better tell them to bring a doctor along."
"What do you mean?"
"You know damn well what I mean, Mrs. Alexander." She did sit down on the bed again then. I forced all thoughts of pity out of my mind. Hell, I did have to look out for myself. If I went out on the streets I would soon be picked up and if she would go along with what I suggested it would save us both a lot of trouble. "I'm not a virgin any longer," I said.
She looked at me. "Let me think," she said. "I have or should have a little influence. At the orphanage, I mean. Heaven knows I've donated enough money."
"Where did you get your money?" I asked. "Did you marry for it? And does your husband get money? I understand that with taxes so high these days it's just about impossible to get a home like this honestly."
"Why don't you shut up? You're just a silly and stupid child and I should slap your face. I should blister your behind good!"
I grinned. "Please just laugh about this, Mrs. Alexander, and let's figure this thing out together. Okay?"
"I'm still thinking," she said.
"I have two more things to say," I said. "Then I'm in your hands. I'll leave it up to you how to get back into the Home, I mean. Okay?"
"Say your say," she said, wearily.
"First, I don't really mean you any harm and I'm really sorry that I've caused this trouble. Second, I'll never mention anything about last night. Not what I know, who I know, or what I did. Fair enough?"
She smiled. "I guess so," she said. "You seem to have me over a barrel and what else can I say, Nancy?"
"You might say one thing," I said, grinning.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Maybe you could ask me to have breakfast."
"Please be my guest," she said, laughing. "You know, under slightly different circumstances I think I could get to like you."
"I like you now," I said. And I meant it.
CHAPTER NINE
There was a noise in the hall and Mel glanced at the door. He thought it was Nan Hartford-Nancy Doe-returning and it entered his mind that the material he was reading might have something to do with the test she had mentioned. Might even be the test, in fact. Maybe his reaction to what she had written when she was a young girl would determine her answer to his proposal of marriage.
For several minutes after he knew that it had just been somebody passing through the hall he was still staring at the door. He was thinking about what his reaction would be when Nancy returned. Finally, he smiled and pulled his eyes away from the door. Probably, at that moment, he would have jumped up and quickly taken the beautiful girl in his arms. He dropped his eyes back to the neatly written words.
"Liking people is good, I think. And I like most people. I liked Mrs. Alexander very much and she was a very nice person. I don't care what she did or didn't do, I liked her. Not just because she helped me, but because of this feeling I have about people. I can usually tell if they can be trusted and come to think of it I don't remember ever being wrong about anybody.
Maybe it's a gift-me being able to tell about people like that. Not that I can tell what makes people click, as the saying goes-Hell, I don't even know what makes me click-but I have this thing about being able to spot a phony in jig time. Like that, I mean, and fast. It is a gift, by damn, and that's how I knew that this Mrs. Conrad Farrell couldn't be trusted. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I rode back to the Home in style that morning after my sexy binge. There was the drinking, of course, but to me that wasn't important. Anyway, Mrs. Alexander drove me back to the Home in her great big blue convertible and the top was down and we chatted and laughed and had a grand time. I didn't see her any more and like most people you pass through life she's just gone and things like that are kind of sad when you think about them. I like to be happy. I do feel that there could have been a lasting bond between the two of us, but that's beside the point.
Adults have their own way of solving problems and I find it much easier to go along not asking too many questions. Therefore, I'm not sure what happened in the office of the Home that morning. I told Mrs. Alexander good-bye and she kissed me on my cheek and I was sent on my way. Never was I scolded, never was I questioned. Outside of the fact, of course, that there were doubts cast on my ability to climb the brick wall. I have a feeling that there were a great main discussions about that feat among the supervisors, however. Just as I'll bet Mrs. Alexander had her checkbook with her and was very generous with her donation.
Two weeks later, and two weeks before school started, I was placed in a foster home. I guess they were tired of me and my heart wasn't broken when I was told to pack my duds. My mother left me there in an empty beer case and fifteen years and a few months later I walked out for the last time with my few. clothes in a cardboard box. I don't know if I was crying when I entered as a baby, but I do know I was laughing when I left.
Mr. and Mrs. Conrad Farrell lived in another city, about one hundred miles away, and they had a daughter. That's about all I found out on-the long drive that sunny morning with Mrs. Farrell. I was to call her Mrs. Farrell and the daughter's name was Lissa. Lissa had been seventeen for two months, this would be her last year of high-as it would mine-and Mrs. Farrell was worried about her. That, I believe, is the only time I asked a question on the way to my new home. I asked why she was worried about her daughter.
"She's very quiet and well-behaved," Mrs. Farrell said, glancing at me and then back to the road, "and she gets good marks in school, but she never enters into any outside activities. In fact, she's never gone out with a boy." She paused and I thought Lissa must be an undersize drip with buck teeth and a flat chest. "Her father and I thought that if there was a young girl in the house it would help her break out of her shell. We have agreed to take you for one year, Nancy. After that, of course, it depends on how we get along. As a family, I mean."
That's just great, I thought. Wonderful! I was going to be a kind of sisterly baby-sister for an ugly seventeen year old girl who couldn't make out with the boys. "I appreciate the chance," I said.
"It isn't that we intend to adopt you or anything like that, Nancy. We just feel that Lissa needs a well, a companion, a chum, you might say. I believe in giving young girls enough freedom to get out and find out about life, learn by living, I suppose you could call it. Of course, I trust Lissa and I expect to be able to trust you. You won't find me too strict, but I don't want any scandals. Do you understand?"
"I think so," I said. I kept my thoughts to myself.
Apparently, I was going to be given quite a bit of freedom in return for breaking Lissa out of her shell, as her mother called it. Maybe Mrs. Farrell had picked me on purpose. Because of my reputation at the Home.
"We won't discuss this again," she said, keeping her eyes on the road. "I'll expect you to keep Lissa out of trouble, of course."
I didn't say anything. Then I slyly took another look at Mrs. Farrell. She was in her late thirties, well-preserved, and quite attractive in a cold sort of way. She was tall and slender, had long lovely legs, her breasts seemed to be about average, her hair was dark and done in the Jackie style. Wearing an olive green street dress, she was neat and clean, but her hazel eyes were-well, cold. I decided I wasn't going to like her. I didn't trust her. Besides, she was treating me like a servant. Or, maybe, a little puppy she had befriended.
In other words, she seemed like a cold fish to me. Then I started wondering what Mr. Farrell was like. I promised myself that no matter if he was as handsome as-well, I wasn't going to take any chances in that department. Not like I had done that time when I was thirteen, at least. If I was going to have quite a bit of freedom I had nothing to worry about. I started looking forward eagerly to my new life, my chances for what I craved most.
Having constructed a picture in my mind of Lissa I was surprised when I saw her. Shocked, would be a better word. She was a little doll. About five feet only, but stacked just right for her height. Friendly blue eyes greeted me warmly and her voice was soft and pleasant. Her long hair was just a shade darker than mine and her skin was very tan. I couldn't understand why she didn't have about a jillion boy-friends panting for one of her sweet smiles.
It was early afternoon and Mrs. Farrell-I found cut later that her first name was Lissa, also-told Lissa to show me to my room and explained to me that Mr. Farrell would be home for dinner. I found out later that he was the head cashier in a bank. The house was a two-story structure, nicely furnished. A typical middle-class suburban home, I guess you would call it. I liked my room and found myself hoping I wouldn't find it necessary to run.
Lissa, I soon found, didn't seem to like to make with the talk. I blabbed on and on, asking questions, telling what I thought to be funny little stories, trying to draw her out, to really get to know her. Most of the time she just smiled and kept her mouth shut. Soon I more or less gave up. With the talking bit, I mean. Strangely enough I didn't find her silences disagreeable or uncomfortable. I liked her.
My room was on the second floor, next to Lissa's, and the bathroom was right across the hall from mine. Her parents had a bedroom downstairs. And there was another bathroom down there, I might add. All in all, it was a very nice house, and I hoped that it would be a nice home. For me, I mean. It was for quite awhile. Looking back, it seems strange that during the next two weeks I didn't find time to go looking for a boy or a man. Mr. Farrell-he told me to call him Conrad, but I never did-was a very nice man. Always smiling and happy acting, making with the jokes, kidding, just the opposite type from his wife. He was about forty and thin, a little shorter than his wife, with blue eyes like Lissa's. He treated me just as he did Lissa as a youngster, but without talking down to me. I liked him. I knew I never wanted to cause him harm in any way.
Not that I wanted to cause anybody any harm, of course, but I was determined that I wouldn't try to use him as a subject for a possible sex adventure. Mrs. Farrell took me shopping for clothes-sometimes with Lissa and sometimes alone-and she continued to be her usual rather cold and aloof self. I soon got used to her ways and I couldn't possibly keep from appreciating the beautiful clothes. She even bought me my first wristwatch. My only wristwatch, in fact. No, I didn't want to bring trouble to the Farrells. I wanted to think of them as my family.
The first day at school the old familiar feeling, the urgent desires, came flooding back. Seeing and talking to boys, just being around them, and I was getting all kinds of ideas. I had been having dreams at night, with the usual results, and on the first day of school I asked Lissa when we could start dating. I kept it casual, remembering my short talk with her mother, and I wasn't surprised when she quite calmly announced that she didn't go with boys. We only lived about seven blocks from school and we were walking home.
"How come?" I asked, laughing. "How can you have fun without boys? What is life without boys?"
"I hate them," she said, frowning. "If one so much as touches me I'll kill him!"
I laughed. "I love them," I said. "If one so much as touches me I'll just about kill him with love!"
She seemed genuinely surprised. "Then you have gone with boys, Nancy? All the way!"
"And as often as possible," I said, smiling. "Why not?"
"I guess most of the girls do," she said. She laughed, rather bitterly, I thought. "I know I'm different, Nancy. I'm not stupid and I've read a few books. I know what's wrong with me."
I glanced at her. I'll admit that I got the wrong idea. About what she might say next, I mean. In answer to the question I just had to ask. "What is wrong with you, Lissa?"
"I was raped by two boys when I was twelve," she said. "It was horrible. From that time until now I just can't-well, I hate them. Do you blame me?"
I didn't say anything. Not right away. We walked along and I didn't look at her. Right away I had gotten the idea she liked girls. I was relieved. After all, that could have caused complications. Before we got home I asked questions and found out that she had never told her parents about her horrible experience. Truthfully, it didn't seem so horrible to me, but I tried to understand how she might feel. I had read a few books, too.
During the following few days I talked to Lissa, telling her that what had happened to her when she was twelve, while being an excuse, certainly wasn't a reason for not going with boys now that she was seventeen. I tried to describe the pleasure, the joy, I experienced with boys-and even told her about the two men, Wade and Phil. She listened, seemingly with great interest, but I could see that I wasn't getting through to her. She finally agreed to go on a doubledate with me, just for my sake, and after I had promised to see that a boy wouldn't touch her. I had ideas about how that could be arranged.
Considering my strong sex drive the arrangements that I made-and followed that fall and during the winter and well into spring-were absolutely ideal. For me, at any rate, and Lissa seemed to want me to have fun and her parents were pleased that she was 'breaking out of her shell.' And I made a lot of boys and I made a lot of boys happy!
I could sense which boys to pick, which one would willingly go along with my slightly unorthodox double-date procedures. Lissa didn't have to worry about being touched by the boys. I saw to that.
The first night, I remember, two nice-looking boys picked us up at the house and we went to a drive-in movie. It was a double feature and while Lissa might have watched the show, and the boys might have watched the screen from time to time, I was in the back seat of the car having a double feature of my own. Shared with the boys, of course. One and then the other and being young and eager they were each able to go on-or get into the back seat-for a repeat performance.
There is certainly one advantage to living in the South. Speaking from a rather personal viewpoint, that is. The drive-in movies remain open the year around and I never had any trouble arranging for a double-date and bless those double feature movies.
There is a saying about 'being in hog heaven' and I think without further elaboration that just about sums up my feelings on the subject.
So, I had found a home and plenty of love or loving and life and living, to me, were really the most
-and, then, my luck played out. One night early in the spring there was a terriffic thunderstorm and lightning was flashing like crazy. I mean, it was like all hell had broken loose and I didn't blame Lissa for being scared. I wasn't feeling so damn brave myself.
It wasn't at that time my luck played out completely, I should say. That was the turning point, however, and eventually I just about had to run. Lissa came into my room, whispering that she was scared, wanting to know if she could stay with me. From flashes of lightning I could see her standing beside my bed, trembling, her small body covered by a thin nightgown. I told her, sure, that she could hop in bed with me-that I would be glad to have her company.
There was a sheet covering me and I was naked. At the Home they had made me sleep in a heavy cotton nightgown or in cotton pj's, but since living with the Farrels I had always slept in the nude. Lissa slipped under the sheet and as she came in contact with my naked body she seemed to start, trembling even more. I had never been in bed with a girl before
-had hardly touched one before, in fact-but now without consciously thinking about anything in particular I cuddled her small body to me. I had the idea I could warm her, stop her trembling, I suppose.
As she slipped under the sheet Lissa's silk gown had hiked up around her waist and I remember thinking that her smooth flesh certainly felt warm-hot and flushed, in fact-to be trembling so much. She wasn't trembling from cold, however, nor from fright. We were facing each other, on our sides, and she was so small her face was against my breasts. I sucked in my breath at Lissa's fingers caught and squeezed my left breast. The nipple was instantly taut and my arms just seemed to automatically go around her tiny waist, pulling her tight.
She squirmed her body, bringing one firm leg up between my thighs, pushing, and at the same time moving in such a way that her mouth was suddenly pressed against mine. Her soft warm lips parted and her tongue darted, probed, and I found my hands moving, my fingers trailing along her ribs, down to the quivering thighs. Then I suddenly pulled my mouth away, fear of my own strange emotions, passion, causing my body to tremble, my hands to be withdrawn from that warm quivering flesh.
"Please, Nancy!"
Her breath was sweet against my face and a flash of lightning disclosed her bright eyes and my head was suddenly spinning. Her soft hands were moving over my body, feeling and searching, her fingers causing my skin to tingle, my blood to roar. Her lips found a nipple and the wonderful warmth, the heat from the inside of her moist mouth, made my senses reel in sensuous, almost consummating, pleasure.
Without thinking, allowing my aroused passions to take over completely my mind and my body, I rolled over on my back. Lissa followed, greedily returning her mouth to my breasts, slipping her hands under my body as my back arched and my hips rotated in demanding urgency. I thought of Phil and what he had done and Lissa's lips, her tongue, were almost driving me out of my mind.
Lissa stopped and I knew she had raised her head. The room was pitch dark, the lightning had stopped, and my very being was aching for release. "Is it all right, Nancy? Tell me it's all right!"
"Yes," I said. "Yes, yes, yes!" And my fingers were entwined in her long hair. And she went lower and lower, ever lower, and my hips began to move pleadingly, and one frantic whispered word kept spilling through my parted lips. "Yes, yes, yes-"
I was being drawn out and away from myself and then it happened and Lissa was still. I could hear her soft breathing in the darkness and after a moment I pulled her into my arms, cuddling her once again, listening to her sobs, telling her that everything was going to be all right.
"That was my first time," she said. "Isn't it funny that I knew exactly what to do?" She was no longer sobbing and it was dark, but I felt that she was smiling.
"This won't change things," I said. "With the boys, I mean."
"That's all right, Nancy. I love you and I know you need boys and I want you to be happy. Please, will you let me be happy?"
I didn't say anything, but I held her tightly. Of course, I wanted her to be happy. I liked her. It entered my mind what had happened was exactly what Mrs. Farrell had been trying to prevent. She must have known about Lissa's leanings, or suspected, and had gotten the somewhat screwy notion that a boy crazy girl could straighten her daughter out. Which, if true, just went to show how half-baked ideas could backfire.
"I'm not a bit sleepy, Nancy," Lissa whispered. "Are you?"
"No," I said. And that was certainly true. I was ready for a boy-a man. The-real thing. "May I?" she asked.
I laughed. If the real thing wasn't available well, the substitute was certainly nice. Very nice! "Sure," I said. "Go, girl, go!"
She went."
CHAPTER TEN
Mel could see that there were only ten or twelve pages left. The scene Nancy had described seemed to be painted on his brain. The two young girls finding each other, entangling in the darkness, didn't surprise him. In fact, he had been expecting it. Still, Nancy hadn't yet admitted full participation. Was that to follow? Was that the test? Did she expect him to reject her because she had done such things?
He asked himself a question. Before he read on and found out for sure he wanted to search his mind, find out the truth. Did it-would it make any difference to him? She was a woman now, twenty-two, and was this her way of saying that she preferred women?
No! Not after her actions of the night before. Hell, she was a man's woman!
Maybe she was one of those women who drift back and forth. Between men and women. Was that what she was trying to tell him? Maybe she had a girl friend now, a lover. She might even be in bed some place with a woman now. He laughed, nervously. As far as that went she might be in bed with a man right at that moment. Or with a man and a woman. How did he feel about that?
Jealous? Of course! Still, he knew that if she walked into the apartment right then he would want her. Would always want her. He even liked her as a young sexy girl. She was certainly honest. There was no doubt about that. She didn't have to let him read about her adventures or misadventures. No. That last thought, word, had been wrong. She hadn't had any unlucky accidents or mishaps. Not where it concerned sex, at any rate. She had certainly asked for everything that had happened to her.
The thought entered his mind that he certainly hadn't been an angel where sex was concerned. The bit with his own sex was way out of line, had never happened to him, but he had contacted several bisexual women during his search-his search for someone to love. Was Nan-Nancy really the end of his search? The one he wanted to marry?
Yes! There was no doubt about it. No matter what he read in the few remaining pages it wouldn't change his feelings at all. If she would have him he would marry her. Now that he had that settled he would finish reading and then wait patiently-or more probably, impatiently-for her return. Then? Well, then he would somehow convince her to marry him.
"Lissa and I continued to go out on double dates, of course. She really didn't seem to mind and I wouldn't have had it any other way. It must be understood that Lissa was the aggressor in our off-beat relationship. My role remained the same, passive, I guess it is called and the word, somehow, doesn't seem to exactly fit. At any rate, I never reciprocated in the true sense of the word. Although, looking back, I suppose there were thoughts of doing just that out of curiosity, if nothing else. And I was always inquisitive where sex was concerned.
The change in Lissa was remarkable. Before she had been very pretty, but now she was blooming into a real beauty. Her personality changed, too, and she became more talkative and even laughed and seemed to have fun with the boys on our dates. I tried to get her to let a boy touch her, but she refused, saying that she would feel that she was doing wrong. Some things in life will always remain a mystery to me and I didn't argue very much. Hell, if she was happy well, I was happier! That was for sure. I would have both dates and I was seldom alone or lonely in my own bed. Lissa saw to that.
Lissa managed to pick up one of my bad habits. She learned to tell lies very convincingly. And I didn't blame her, because she just wanted to make her mother feel good. Mrs. Farrell noticed the change in Lissa and assumed that our many dates were the cause. Her cold face almost beamed as she listened to Lissa relate little incidents-true or otherwise that had taken place with this boy or that. Innocent little happenings, of course, that a mother might expect to take place between her daughter and a boy.
Mrs. Farrell was even more friendly and relaxed around me. One day she got me alone and told me that she guessed her little gamble had paid off. I asked her what she meant.
"Bringing you here to live," she said. "I told you that I was worried about Lissa, remember?"
"Yes," I said. Maybe I had a feeling about what was coming, but I don't like to second-guess.
"They assured me at the Home that you-well, that you had no leanings whatsoever toward girls, Nancy." She blushed and then went on hurriedly. "I'm sure you know what I mean and I won't dwell on the subject, but I was afraid that Lissa might turn out to be a a man-hater. Now that she has changed, come out of her shell, I have you to thank, Nancy."
I didn't know what to say. It scared me to even think about her finding out the truth about her daughter. Or me! "I'm glad your gamble paid off, Mrs. Farrell," I said, meeting her eyes. "Lissa seems to be a very normal girl."
She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then said, "You girls don't do anything wrong, Nancy? You go with nice boys and don't "Oh, no!" I said, quickly. "Lissa and I have talked many times and we both agree that-well, we want to-to save ourselves for our future husbands." I hung my head in pretended bashfulness. I wondered why adults, parents, insisted upon kidding themselves. Couldn't Mrs. Farrell remember her younger days?
Had she been lily-white on her wedding day? I wondered about her present sex-life. With her husband. It might be interesting to check on that some time. And right away Peeping and Spying Nancy began to get ideas.
Mrs. Farrell thanked me again and I was dismissed like a servant. Like a necessary evil that had to be tolerated. I wondered what she would have said if I had made it even more convincing that her daughter was so-called normal. What if I had told her that Lissa was taking on boys right and left, up and down, and sideways? I had the feeling she wouldn't have gotten too excited. She seemed to have a complex, an obsession, concerning her daughter. A fear that Lissa was gay. My next thought was that maybe Mrs. Farrell had such tendencies herself and was afraid her daughter had inherited those tendencies.
This turned out to be true and it isn't really second-guessing on my part. I soon found out by listening outside their bedroom door. Maybe I wouldn't have done it if I had liked Mrs. Farrell, had trusted her, but knowing myself I supposed that is just wishful thinking.
It took almost a week of slipping downstairs during the dark of night to settle my curiosity. I had begun to think that maybe Mrs. Farrell had cut her husband completely off from that stuff cats and dogs-and some humans-fight for and over. I waited until Lissa had returned to her own room. There had been a slow change in Lissa during this time. In her frantic search for pleasure it had probably dawned on her that what she did was actually only half an act and she had some not so subtle little ways of informing me of that fact. She still wasn't bold enough to put her desires, her wishes, into words, but I knew she was working up to it.
Outside the master bedroom, listening, I knew I had struck pay dirt. I was wearing a bathrobe and had as an excuse, just waiting to be told in case I was caught, that I was hungry and on the way to the kitchen for a bite to eat. A perfectly natural reason, by the way, as I had often done just that. Sometimes Lissa's passionate actions left me hungry in more ways than one. I glued my ear to the door, sorry that there was no light shining through the key hole.
-and I'm sorry if I can't really be a good wife, Conrad." It was Mrs. Farrell's voice and the conversation, the best I can remember, went like this:
"All I ask is that you perform your duties as a wife," Mr. Farrell said. "It isn't that I make too many demands. Not even that I make demands. I just know that at times you enjoy it, honey. You can't hide that fact from me."
"You knew how I was when you married me. You know that I had been living with Joyce for over two years."
"It was your idea that you wanted a husband, a child."
"Sometimes I'm sorry I ever had a child. A girl! I don't want Lissa to suffer as I have!"
"I've told you a hundred times to stop torturing yourself with guilty feelings about something you can't help. Couldn't help."
"You used die right word, Conrad. Can't instead of couldn't."
"When? How long ago?"
"About two weeks," Mrs. Farrel said, and it sounded as if she were about to cry. "I picked a girl up and took her to a motel. How can you say I shouldn't There was a sound as if Mr. Farrell was patting her bare skin. "Take it easy, honey. Please? I think you're what is called bisexual and you can't help that. Take it easy. If you enjoy these-these little excursions-well, you don't hear me complaining. When you force yourself to relax with me I know damn well you enjoy it. Here! Feel!"
There was silence and my imagination ran wild. Mrs. Farrell's voice; then, soft and low. "I really try to change, Conrad. Really." Another silence and I was holding my breath. "There! Do you like that?"
"Turn around, honey! Let me!"
"I'm glad Lissa started going with boys, Conrad. Have you noticed how she changed. I think Nancy was good for her. Do you think Lissa might have let a boy touch her? I almost wish she would! Maybe I don't mean that, but I keep remembering what I was doing at her age."
"Let Lissa live her own life, honey." A pause. "How about you? With Nancy, I mean. Do you get the hots for her?"
"Don't be vulgar, Conrad!"
"I'm afraid you'll never change," Mr. Farrell said. I could picture a frown on his face. "You didn't answer my question!"
"What question?"
"We were talking about Nancy. Do you have any trouble keeping your hands from her?"
"Yes, yes! Sometimes I hate myself and sometimes I hate her!"
"She doesn't suspect?"
"No, I'm positive she doesn't. I notice you look her over good when you get the chance."
He laughed. "I'm human, honey. But I'm not the type to lust after a young girl. At least, I'm not the type that would do anything about it. You can take care of all my needs, baby. If you would only try. Your body is beautiful, Lissa."
"You haven't called me that in a long time, Conrad. Lissa, I mean. Why did I insist on calling our daughter Lissa? Do you really and truly think my body is beautiful?"
"No young girl could compare with you, honey. Relax and let me prove it."
"Do you really want me to turn around? Just for a little while?"
I didn't wait to hear any more. I knew the answer would be yes and that there wouldn't be any more talk for awhile. And I didn't care about torturing myself by listening to sounds. Besides, I wanted to think about what I had heard. I wondered if I should tell Lissa. I knew I couldn't. There was a feeling that I should try and get out of the house, away from what I had tried to look upon as a home.
The daughter wanted me, the mother wanted me. The young Lissa said she loved me, the older Lissa said she sometimes hated me. The father-husband didn't seem to care if his wife picked up girls, wanted to let his daughter live her own life, made love to his wife while admitting that he had been looking me over. An explosive situation if I had ever seen one. I didn't get much sleep that night. I always did worry about others more than myself.
The next day was Saturday. I slept late and went downstairs dreading to face Mr. and Mrs. Farrell. Lissa wasn't in her room and I looked in the living room and in the kitchen and didn't find anybody. I made myself some toast and coffee and just as I finished Lissa came in the back door. She was wearing white shorts and a white halter. At least, they had been white. She said she had been cleaning the garage-orders from her father-and I asked why she hadn't called me to help.
"I wanted you to sleep," she said, smiling. "Dad went fishing and I promised we would clean the garage before he got back." She laughed. "He went all the way to the Gulf with some friends for deep-sea fishing and he won't be back until tomorrow, so I don't know why I was in such a hurry.."
"You wanted to save me some work," I said kiddingly, but I knew it was true.
"Yes," she said, softly. "Will you come upstairs with me while I take a bath?"
"Where's your mother?"
"She won't be back for hours. Not before dinner, in fact. We have the house to ourselves all day." She walked close and put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "Please? I want to see you in the daylight."
I hesitated. It was true that we had never been together during the day. Always at night, in the dark, and I couldn't resist the pleading look in her eyes. Besides, I was suddenly just about as anxious as she.
"Are you sure your mother won't come home?"
"She's going shopping with some friends and then they're going to have lunch and then they'll probably play bridge all afternoon." She ran her hand underneath my sweater. "Please?"
"Why not?" I asked, laughing and standing up. "It's a long time until eight o'clock." We had a date and it did seem ages until that evening. "And you look like you need a bath."
I watched her bathe and scrubbed her back and I'll admit that I enjoyed observing her beautiful little body. And touching it. Afterward she insisted upon undressing me and it was quite an experience letting her give me a bath. I decided that when I got rich I might just keep a young beautiful girl in my fine home to do such things for me. When there wasn't a man handy, of course.
We went to my room, still naked, and she couldn't get enough of just looking at me. And feeling, and kneading, and massaging, and kissing. Like mother, like daughter, I thought, and wondered what she would say if I were to tell her what I had overheard the night before. Her lips found mine, finally, and she succeeded in cutting off most of my thoughts. I do remember thinking about the old saying, 'The pot can't call the kettle black.'
I guess I knew all the time that what did happen would happen. I liked her, I liked what she was doing, I was curious, my words didn't surprise me. They sounded as if they might be coming from another person, but they didn't surprise me. I remembered, even as I said them, that I had heard the exact words the night before. "Turn around, honey! Let me!"
Her blue eyes were gleaming. "Do you mean it? Really?"
I closed my eyes. "Yes," I whispered.
A swift movement, my lips parted, my eyes opened, the tip of my tongue seemed to instinctively know what to do. We clung together, locked, and I remember thinking, now I've gone the whole route."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mel found that he couldn't finish reading without stopping after all. He fumbled for a cigarette, got it going, and then once again read the last few sentences. This part, he felt, was what Nancy would consider the supreme test. He realized that she would be gone long enough for him to be gone when she got back. He also realized that many, if not most, men would haul out of the apartment with, as a certain personage was fond of saying, 'all deliberate speed.'
Only a couple of pages remained. He knew that he would read them and he also knew that he wouldn't leave.
"Lost in the darkness of limbo there seemed to be a loud voice screaming. Lissa jerked away and I looked at her standing beside the bed. I didn't have to look toward the door to know that the older Lissa was standing there screaming. I looked, though. And I sat up and slipped to the edge of the bed. "Shut up," I said. Then louder. "Shut up!"
"Please, Nancy! That's my mother!"
"Come here, baby," Mrs. Farrell said. I decided maybe her screams were as false as she was. They had certainly been replaced by a rather calm voice. "Nancy, I'm surprised at you. Really! I trusted you and look what you have done to my baby. After I took you in and-"
"You're stupid," I said. "Go to your room, Lissa. Now!" Lissa looked at me and then at her mother and then back at me. Then she fled. My lover fled. The chips were down and she ran. As Wade had run, and Phil had run. As Mrs. Farrell would be running if she could. It seemed that everybody spent most of the time running. I knew I would be running soon. As my mother was probably still running.
"I guess you know what I'm going to do, Nancy." Mrs. Farrell didn't look at me, my body. "You will be placed in a reformatory."
"You're stupid," I said.
"The authorities will believe anything I say and I can say you stole some money. Would that be better? Would you rather handle it that way?"
"You're stupid," I said.
"I'll do anything to protect my daughter, Nancy, I mean it."
I stood up. I laughed and took a step forward. I cupped my breasts. "Would you care for seconds?" I asked.
She ran. I walked over and closed the door and then started looking through my beautiful wardrobe. It was a shame to leave all those gorgeous clothes. Well, some day when I was older I would have more. Many more. Just as I would have a fine home, a fine car-and maybe even a fine husband. Maybe an understanding husband like Mr. Farrell.
I picked out a pale yellow sweater and a pale yellow skirt. I decided I wouldn't wear stockings. Then I picked out a beige pair of high heels and a white bra and panties. I had learned several things in that house and one was how to pick colors. The right colors to go with my blonde hair. I placed all the clothes except the shoes on the bed and then sat down on the edge of the bed. It was still rumpled from the torrid session. I thought about the things I had learned about myself.
My experience with Lissa certainly hadn't been unique. That was my first thought. After that it was fairly easy to rationalize. I didn't exactly justify the existence of the known fact-just as I had never been able to justify the existence of the fact that I liked sex with boys-men. It had happened and there was really no harm done-that I could see-and why deny that I had wanted it to happen, had liked it while it was happening?
I still thought Mrs. Farrell was stupid. For lying to herself, for not facing facts. I hoped Lissa would be able to face facts, would be able to learn to live with herself. I stood up and walked naked out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom. I took a shower and dried briskly with a large towel. I felt fine. I had to run, but I certainly wasn't running from myself.
Was I? No! If I were older I wouldn't have to run. I could live with myself, inside where it really counted, and I suddenly felt very happy.
There would be freedom for awhile yet. Only hours, maybe, but I had all those years to look forward to. When I would be older and wouldn't have to run. I brushed my hair, singing a little song under my breath, admiring my young body. Then I carefully-made up my face and just as carefully dressed. I didn't see Lissa or Mrs. Farrell. I noticed that the car was gone. I wondered where they had headed, where they were running. To the police?
I hadn't stolen any money. I had nine dollars and some change left out of my allowance. Then I remembered the money I had earned at the Home. From the boys. Some girl had stolen it from my locker. I laughed. Was sex worse than stealing? Worse than drinking? Worse than killing? I clutched my small beige purse under my arm and hurried down the sidewalk. Soon I hailed a cab. The driver was young and handsome and friendly.
"Where to, Miss?" I liked his smile, his voice. "Maybe you have a suggestion," I said, smiling. I took a deep breath, leaned against the back of the seat, and felt my nipples thrusting, straining, swelling.
The handsome cabbie had several suggestions. I liked them all."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mel carefully stacked the sheets of paper and placed them on the low coffee table. There was a feeling of disappointment. Nancy's story had ended so abruptly, without settling anything, that he could hardly wait until she returned. He laughed, then, and the sound made the apartment seem even more lonely than it had been before. How could anything be settled? Really? Only in death was anything in life actually settled.
What had Nancy been doing since she was sixteen? Apparently, she hadn't reached seventeen at the time of the writing. Why had she written it in the first place? Why had she been carrying it around with her the past four or five years? To show men who asked to marry her, told her that they loved her? As he had?
He stood up. It was almost one o'clock and he was suddenly very hungry. He went to the bedroom and finished dressing and then went to the kitchen and scrambled four eggs. Toast and two cups of coffee topped off his brunch and he piled the dirty dishes in the sink and wandered into the living room. For several minutes he stared at the papers on the coffee table and then stretched out on the couch.
It would be two or three hours before Nancy returned and once again he wondered where she had gone. Incidents that had taken place when she was sixteen and younger kept popping into his mind. There were several things he wanted to ask and he wondered if she would be willing to answer, would be willing to discuss her past life.
He remembered what she had said about love at one point. That maybe when she got older, twenty or maybe twenty-five, she might fall for some guy. But in the meantime she liked or loved them all. Yes, she was very honest. Almost masculine in her outlook on love and sex. He decided he liked that quality most of all. No beating around the bush like most women. No hypocritical excuses or reasons for satisfying the hungers of the body.
Her day-dreams about finding a rich husband were quite natural, he decided. Most girls probably had similar dreams, picturing themselves in fine homes with handsome husbands, but-he laughed aloud-few would admit that they day-dreamed about possible handsome male servants. He remembered that she had said something about the fact that she would or might find a rich man and hold out on him until he married her. Well, she had changed to some degree, at least. She most certainly hadn't held out on him. And she did know he was rich.
It seemed that several things stood out in Mel's mind even more than the plentiful sex scenes. He remembered that she had said to some man that there should be laws to protect men from underage girls like her. Mel decided that he could go along with that idea one hundred percent. She had mentioned that she felt sorry for people and she had proved it several times. Her idea that she knew who to trust, he decided, could be wrong. Although he had to admit that she had made her point several times along that line.
The part where she had stated that she liked to be happy Mel could understand. He had been around enough to know that few people could really let themselves go and be happy without a feeling of guilt. Probably due to the results of generations and generations of Americans passing along ideas first believed and put into practice by the Puritans. Resulting, he felt, in narrow-mindedness and actual stupidity where sex was concerned.
He knew that it would take a patient and understanding man to keep Nancy under control. Plus, of course, a man with strong sex drives. He felt that he was qualified in the latter department and knew that reading Nancy's confession-or whatever she called it-hadn't changed his feeling for her. Therefore, he concluded, he was understanding enough and it wasn't a case of forgiveness. He also liked to be happy and no matter how many people said otherwise complete sexual gratification was an absolute requisite for happiness.
The thought that Nancy might accept his offer of marriage only for his money had to be considered, of course. She had told him that she loved him, but in the heat of passion many women had told him that. Only to prove by actions and words later than they really meant that they loved him at the time for the pleasure he was giving them. He had told two women that he loved them. Margaret and Nancy. He had married Margaret and now, no matter what, he was going to marry Nancy if she would have him.
That point settled once and for all in his mind, Mel sat up and looked at the stack of paper. He wondered how many other men had read about Nancy's adventures. Perhaps, to laugh at her later or become angry and storm self-righteously out of her life. He had the feeling that what he did with the script would interest Nancy more than what he might say. He didn't want any other person to read it-man or woman-and if Nancy married him what use would it be to her?
None. Therefore, it would seem logical to destroy what she had written when she was sixteen. And it also seemed logical that he should be the person to do it. Maybe that was the test she had mentioned. Maybe she had been looking for a man to read her sexy and rather sad tale and then destroy it and set her free from her past.
Did he have the right, though? Without getting her permission first, did he have the right to destroy her property? He hesitated for several minutes and then stood up and then made three neat piles out of the one. Then he tore the pages right down the middle and even after dividing the stack into three he still had difficulty tearing them. Slipping the torn sheets under the couch, he once again stretched out with his hands behind his head. If he had made a mistake-and he didn't think he had-there would actually be nothing lost. It might take some time, but the torn pages could still be recopied on fresh paper. And if Nancy protested he would do it himself.
It entered his mind that her confession would be one hell of a thing for their kids to read. If they were fortunate enough to have any. He knew that he wouldn't have to worry about the way Nancy would raise a daughter. With her experiences-because of her experiences-he would have to watch it or she would really make life tough on a daughter. He had found that most women who had lived rather wild lives while growing up became the strictest of mothers where their own daughters were concerned.
Suddenly restless, Mel swung from the couch and started toward the door. The waiting was getting on his nerves. He would take a walk and see if he could find Nancy. Where? Where in the hell could he look? He paused, his hand on the doorknob, knowing that it would be stupid to leave the apartment. Nancy might return while he was rambling around and think that he had gotten angry or disgusted and left. He walked into the kitchen and read her note again.
There was no hint of where she had gone, but she had stated that she didn't want him to leave. And she had put in writing the three magic words, I love you. The fact that she had said he was smart enough to understand without further explanations made him feel good. As the word now followed the word explanations it must mean that she would willingly explain when she returned. He might as well relax and wait. He sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the three little words at the end of the note.
One hour, two hours, and the clock on the electric stove told that it was three-thirty. He checked his wristwatch and saw that the clock was ten minutes fast. To have something to do, to keep from drinking another cup of coffee, he went over and set the clock. There was beer in the refrigerator, but no liquor the cupboards. He had checked and found out that fact between cups of coffee. His throat was dry from so many cigarettes and he decided to have a beer. Then he had another.
At ten minutes to four he heard the outside door open. His heart skipping a beat, then pounding madly, he hurried into the living room. Nan-Nancy turned from closing the door, a smile flickering for an instant over her red lips, and he wondered if he should call her Nancy.
"I'm back," she said, dropping her eyes. "I'm glad you-you waited."
Mel checked his impulse to rush over and take her in his arms. Later he wished he had followed his impulse.
"There was never any doubt in my mind about waiting," he said. She walked over and sat down on a straight-back chair across from the couch. He grinned. "I'm glad you're back."
"Please sit down," she said, not looking at him. "You make me nervous standing there like that."
It was like they were strangers-as if they had never been intimate, he decided. She had changed. Quite formal, even bashful acting. He walked over and sat down on the couch, deciding to let her speak first, to break the ice.
She was wearing a very becoming white outfit. White blouse covered by a white tailored jacket, white skirt that she kept tugging down over her bare knees. She wasn't wearing stockings and her high heel shoes, also white, were planted firmly on the floor. Her rather wide shoulders were straight, but her blonde head was bent slightly, her eyes apparently staring at some spot on the floor. Her hands finally went to her lap and she looked up at Mel.
"I guess you want to ask questions," she said. It wasn't a question, just a statement in a low voice, and Mel smiled.
"It isn't necessary," he said. "If you don't want to talk about it-well, it's all right. Should I call you Nancy?"
"Yes," she said. "I've been walking around, sitting in the park, just waiting to come back."
"You didn't have to leave," he said. "Did you eat?"
"I had a sandwich," she said. "You?"
He grinned. "I made a mess in your nice clean kitchen. I had eggs and toast and a jillion cups of coffee and right at the last two beers."
"I was doing a lot of thinking," she said. "While sitting in the park, I mean. I bought some peanuts and shared them and my bench with a cute little squirrel. He-was reddish-brown and I don't see why they call squirrels rodents. They aren't anything like rats. Do you think?"
"They just belong to the rodent family," he said. "What were you thinking about, Nancy?"
"Everything, nothing, you, me, things like that."
He laughed. "How could you think about nothing?"
"Blank," she said. "You know. Like when you try to think about nothing and try to make your mind blank. You have to think just the same."
"I never thought about it like that, but I guess you do at that. You ended your story rather abruptly, honey. What happened after the cabbie picked you up? During the following years, I mean."
"I-I worked in a place for about two weeks." She met his eyes. "I didn't get any pay and at the end I didn't like it and I was glad when I was picked up by the police. Rescued, they called it, and I agree and I would rather not talk about those two weeks. All right?"
"Okay," he said. "We don't have to talk about any of it, Nancy. It's all over and after reading your story I still feel the same way about you. Believe me. I love you and want you to marry me."
"I went to court and from there to a reformatory."
"Don't tell me about it if you don't want to."
"I have to," she said. "Can you understand that, Mel?"
"Yes," he said. "I think so, anyway."
"I really didn't do all those things because I hated my mother," she said. "That's what they tried to tell me and I kept telling them they were full of-crap. Only I used another word. I can't marry you, Mel. I don't want to marry you and I want you to go. Please?"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Not on your life," he said, seriously. Then he grinned. "Unless you think you're capable of throwing me out."
"If you weren't rich it might be okay."
"Because of what you wrote? About hooking a rich man? All girls, young and some not so young, dream about having the nicer things in life, honey. Marrying a rich man is one of the ways." He laughed. "One of the easier ways, I suppose, but you were just a sexy kid with the body of a woman and it wasn't-isn't your fault that our society makes no allowances for-for things like that. How long were you in the reformatory?"
"Until I was almost nineteen. I could have gone out when I reached eighteen, but I was afraid. You know." She laughed for the first time. "I guess you don't really know, but maybe you can understand. I was older and I didn't trust myself and-well, I was afraid to face people. Men."
Mel started to ask about the girls, the women, in the reformatory, but changed his mind. "I guess if a person is out of circulation for any length of time it's normal to be kind of afraid to face people, life. You metioned something about a psychiatrist yesterday, last night. Did a doctor tell you that you hated your mother?" '
"It was more of an implication, I guess." She kicked off her shoes. "My feet hurt. The first doctor was a man and then he turned me over to a lady psychiatrist." She laughed. "I never did know if he didn't trust me or himself." She held up her hand. "No, I didn't make a pass at him, but I guess it entered my mind. The lady doctor was wonderful." She blushed. "She helped me a lot, I guess. At least, I started feeling guilty about the way I had acted, lived."
T rather admired your-well, the way you were," he said, smiling. "While reading about your-your adventures, I mean."
"Really? I don't know whether to believe that or not. Most men-three, in fact-appeared quite disgusted."
"Maybe I used the wrong word," he said. "Admiration might be just a little to-well, anyway, I liked your spunk. You had a driving need and you went about filling that need and at the same time you didn't want to hurt anybody. You're a very honest person, Nancy, and I will say that I admire you for that. Did you let me read your story as a warning?"
"I guess you might call it that," she said. "I spent two hours each week with the lady psychiatrist and we just talked. Questions and answers, you know, and she said that sometimes it helped people to write out in words how they felt about things. That's what I tried to do. I never did show it to her, though. She said that some day I would meet a man and get married and I just had the idea that I wouldn't want to marry any man under false pretenses. Do you think a person can be too honest, Mel?"
"Yes," he said. "I think you proved that when you showed it to the men who-who showed their disgust. Did you "Love them?" She laughed. "I don't know, Mel. I guess I thought I did. By letting them read that that confession, I guess you could call it-I did them a favor by showing them that it was my body they wanted and not me."
"You say that as if-as if you felt that somehow you are two instead of one. That your mind and your body are actually separate."
She laughed. "I used to feel that way. Still do sometimes. The doctor said that I must learn to control my body with my mind."
"The lady doctor?"
"Yes. You remember reading about Lissa? Sure you do! I told the doctor about her, of course, and she told me that many people are sometimes attracted to their own sex. Without really being what you would call abnormal. She said there's a little male in all females and a little female in all males. Something like that, anyway." She laughed. "Sounds silly the way I said that, but I guess you know what I mean."
"I was taking pre-med when I quit school," he said, smiling. "I've also read a few books on the subject of sex and the various forms it takes and I think I agree with your lady doctor." He laughed. "I think if I could talk to her after last night I could prove to her that you-well, you can't say you don't enjoy being with a man. Right?"
"I don't have to answer that," she said, smiling. "I thought I was in love with the lady doctor for awhile, if you haven't already guessed, and that's what I meant when I said she helped me a lot. She understood and I don't know just how she did it, or how to explain it, but she convinced me that I wasn't a lesbian. If it will make you feel any better-well Lissa was the first and last and God knows I had plenty of opportunities."
"And still have?"
"Opportunities? Of course! There's a couple living right down the hall. Very attractive women, too. I don't have to worry about anything like that any more. I mean, I apparently went through a stage and outgrew it and for that I'm thankful. I'm even a little proud of the fact that I didn't slip up with the girls in the reformatory. There were a few gay ones, of course, and-" she blushed "-I won't tell you what I sometimes had to do, or did, but I was always alone and now I think that's enough of that and would you mind if I got into something more comfortable?"
"Mind?" He laughed. "Hell, I'm eager."
She stood up, hesitated, and then sat back down. "I think that might not be such a good idea," she said, seriously. "If you're really serious about getting married I think we should get this whole deal straightened out before we-well, go together like a couple of rutting animals."
Mel had started to stand up, anxious to take Nancy into his arms, just the thought of her meaning when she said she would get into something more comfortable bringing a surge of desire. He leaned back and frowned. "Why do you insist upon-well, cheapening yourself, Nancy? You can be talking so nice and then all of a sudden you spring some damn crack like that-that rutting business. Is that all our relationship means to you? Last night I thought there had been a meeting of our minds as well as our bodies and it was beautiful to me and I really thought you felt the same way. In fact, I'm almost positive you felt the same."
"I'm sorry," she said. "Really, Mel. I don't know what gets into me sometimes-what makes me say things like that. I'm sorry."
"I think maybe that damn lady doctor over did it just a little," he said. "She, as you say, made you feel guilty and if you went to extremes one way before-well, I think you're going to extremes the other way now. Hell, I love you and-"
"I said I was sorry!"
He looked at her for a moment, smiled, and then stretched out on the couch. "Why don't you come over here and prove it?" he asked.
"Maybe I'm practicing my control," she said, smiling. "Aren't you interested in what happened after I left the reformatory?"
"You know that I'm interested in anything and everything about you, Nancy."
"In the place I was in they encouraged girls to study. You know, regular schools. They had courses in beauty culture, cooking, sewing-things like that. Anyway, I took typing, short-hand, filing; just about everything to do with secretarial work. They found me a job and a room at the Y. That's where I really proved to myself that I was through with the lesbian bit. Anyway, I worked in an office and lived at the Y for six months."
Mel waited for her to go on and when she didn't he sat up. "I'm still listening," he said.
"All that time I didn't even have a date. Sure, I was asked, but I had the feeling I wanted to be married to the next fellow who had me. Besides, I had been without it so long-well, you might not believe this, but I seemed to kind of freeze when I thought about being with a man." She laughed. "Knowing me the way you do, the way I acted, I guess you find that quite difficult to believe?"
"No," he said, seriously. "We all change as we grow older and tend to worry more about what people might think about us."
"There was one young fellow in that office who well, I liked his looks and I dated him and the third time I let him have me." She laughed. "To be honest I wanted him and the old wildness came back and to be honest again, he wasn't much of a man." She blushed. "He talked and I just about had to quit that job. The boss even started making cracks and trying to pinch me and wanted to rent an apartment for me and I bloodied his nose with my fist and then quit before I got fired.
"I rented an apartment myself and found another job and within two months much the same thing happened again. At the next office I didn't go out with any of the men. Just brushed them off, you know. Then-" She stopped talking, frowned and stood up.
Mel got to his feet. "What's the matter?"
"I don't think there's any use going into details," she said. "I tried to fight it, but I couldn't. Or didn't want to. Anyway, I started going to bars and places like that and-well, there were plenty of men. At times I felt that I hated all men and at the same time I seemed to have to have them. Can you understand that?"
"Yes," he said.
"You remember I said I did a lot of thinking when I was in the park and while I was walking around?"
"Yes," he said.
"I was thinking mostly that I wanted to make you happy, Mel. More than anything in the world I want to make you happy." She laughed. "I was also thinking of something else."
There was a little twinkle in her bright eyes and Mel grinned. "I remember an expression you used in your story and also at one point last night. Are you trying to tell me you're in the mood?"
For her answer she laughed and turned toward the door leading to the bedroom. Mel watched her walk across the room, his eyes on her jiggling behind, feeling the instant response in his own body. Then he hurried after her, his discarded clothes leaving a trail all the way. As fast as he was she was almost naked when he arrived. He helped remove the rest of her clothes and they were both surprised when they went together with gentleness. It lasted and lasted and lasted.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"That was the best I ever had," Nancy said. "Nearly an hour, huh? I never realized it could be so kind of calm and peaceful like that. You know? It's usually so mad-like and violent and now I feel like I love the whole wide world. Do you think I'm vulgar talking like that?"
"Absolutely not," he said, smiling.
They were side by side on the bed and it had lasted almost an hour. Mel rolled over, placing one leg over her lovely warm body, his lips finding a nipple. He used the tip of his tongue and she squirmed around, pushing her breast forward, driving the taut nipple further into his mouth.
"What did you do with my stupid little essay?" she asked.
Mel pulled away and flopped over on his back. He had been expecting that question. "What did you want me to do with it?" he asked. "What did you expect me to do with it?"
"Don't evade the question," she said.
Mel stared at the ceiling. "I destroyed it," he said. "I tore it up." He turned his head and met her eyes. "Any objections?"
"None at all," she said, smiling. "You must have guessed about my silly little test."
"I don't think it was so silly," he said. "If a man can't forget the past he has no right to the present or the future. You haven't told me that you would marry me, Nancy."
"I told you that I loved you and I tell you that now, Mel. I do love you and you seem to have forgotten that this State has community property laws. If you marry me half of what you have will automatically become mine. Isn't that right?"
"That's right as far as I'm concerned," he said, smiling. "By that I mean you're welcome to half of what I own." He laughed. "Plus all of me, of course. However, arrangements can be made whereby the wife or would-be wife can agree to accept a stipulated amount before the ceremony is performed. That's the way I understand it, anyway, and I would have to check with an attorney before knowing for sure. The way-I understand it the community property law is to protect the wife when she has helped the husband accumulate his money, real estate, or what have you."
"I don't deserve half of your money or half of your property," she said. "People would say I married you because of your money."
He laughed. "I don't deserve it, either," he said. "I didn't earn it. I just happened to have a rich father."
"You had better see a lawyer and have him draw up a contract or something. I'm serious, Mel."
"And I'm just as serious when I tell you that I want you to share equally in what I have. I'm the last of my immediate family and if I die I don't care about my money going to charity. Did you know that only about thirty percent actually is used to help people; that about seventy percent is allowed for operating expenses?"
"I don't like to talk about death," she said. "Besides, I was living on charity most of my life."
"You had a place to stay and something to eat and clothes," he said. "It seems to me somewhere along the line somebody should have provided love and understanding-well, I won't go into that. Our marriage will be without special contracts or anything like that. Anyway, we will have about ten kids and let them spend the money if there's any left after we get through living."
"Would you love me if I had a big belly and sagging breasts?"
"Having children is part of being married," he said, laughing. "I've seen women who have had many children and-well, if a woman takes care of herself she doesn't have to lose her shape. Does that worry you, Nancy? About losing your shape, I mean?"
She laughed. "I suppose it does," she said. "Do you know what I used to day-dream about when I wasn't day-dreaming about sex? For the past couple of years I've often thought I would like to help girls. You know? Maybe some kind of a home for girls without parents and-well, give them love and undrestanding like you were talking about a minute ago."
"You don't sound much like the young Nancy Doe right now," he said.
"You think I'm being silly?"
"Absolutely not! In fact, I think it's a damn good idea." He turned over and slipped one arm under her body and pulled her almost on top of him. "It's a sad fact that we can't spend the rest of our life in bed like this and I really think I like the idea. Really. I could even help you in some way."
"Not too much help, I hope! Not with the-" she kissed him and then pulled her mouth away "-I was just kidding and you know that."
"On second thought I had better not take a very active part," he said, laughing. "There might be a Nancy or a Jane or a Mary Doe and while you're busy having kids-why did you take the name Nan Hartford?"
"I thought it sounded rather dignified. Like I was a lady maybe. I guess that was silly, too. I know a name doesn't make the person and I've often wondered what my father's name was." She laughed.
"Wouldn't it be funny if there was some way I could find out and it turned out that his name was Smith?"
"Smith is a very respectable and dignified name," he said. "And so is Doe."
"Mrs. Mel Goodwin," she said, softly. "I like the sound of that."
He pulled her closer and higher, nibbled with his lips, and said, "And I like the taste of that."
"You're going to get me started again," she said, laughing. "We certainly blended that last time, didn't we?"
"Don't ever change," he said, seriously. "Did I tell you that you were fun to be around? I never know what to expect when you open your mouth and I like it. Really."
"I could say something," she said, laughing, "but I won't."
"I'm ready for some more loving," he said.
Nancy pulled away quickly and rolled over to the edge of the bed. "There's something I want to say before I forget it," she said, sitting up and swinging her feet to the floor. "Not that I'm really apt to forget it, but I want to say it now, anyway." She looked and laughed. "See! I'm learning to keep myself under control more all the time."
"Just don't over-do the control bit," he said, grinning. "What is it that you want to say that's so important you can make an eager and ready man wait?"
"I think I know what love is," she said, seriously. Then she laughed. "Besides the joy with the joy stick, I mean." Her face sobered. "Want to hear?"
"I'd be glad to," he said, seriously.
"Well, it's a combination of things, of course. Admiration, respect, wanting to give pleasure as well as receive it. Give more than receive, in fact. Something new for me right there. Anyway, on that bench in the park today it kind of dawned on me just how I felt about you. Oh, I get a hell of a kick out of being in bed with you and all that, but it seems to be more than that. You know. Even-well, even if there wasn't the sex part of it I would still want to be with you. Funny, huh?"
"I don't think it's funny," he said. "I think it's wonderful."
"I didn't really mean funny in the sense that well, I mean it seems strange such words would be coming from me. Don't you think? After all, you read how I used to feel about things and believe me I meant them at the time. What I wrote, I mean."
"I understood what you were getting at," he said. "I feel the same way about you."
"Do you love me more than you did Margaret?"
"I wish you hadn't asked that," he said. "At the time I loved her with all my heart and now I love you with all my heart. I will say that I was younger then and we just happened to meet, Margaret and I, and we loved each other and we got married. I've been looking, I searched for you, Nancy, and if she had lived I wouldn't have been looking. Whether or not I would have-well, you can see that the question is impossible to answer."
"I know," she said. "I'm not sorry I asked it though. I think most men would have lied, told me what they thought I wanted to hear. What I'm getting at is the fact that you stayed right With her all during her illness and didn't go with other women. Isn't that right?"
"Yes."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you now, Mel. If you became ill or helpless I would still want to be with you and even if there wasn't any sex I woidd love you. Is that the way you feel about me?"
"Yes, Nancy."
"For always and always until death do us part?"
"For as long as I live," he said.
She stood up. "I think the man has tears in his eyes," she said, wiping her own eyes. "I'm starved and I'm a darn good cook and how would you like to have a T-bone steak and I'm so happy I feel like crying and isn't that the stupidest thing you ever heard of?"
Nancy grabbed up a robe from a chair beside the bed and ran toward the doorway. "Nancy," Mel said.
She stopped and turned her head. "Yes, honey?"
"I'm not ashamed of my tears."
Her lips were trembling, but she managed a smile. "I'm proud of your tears," she said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Mel opened his eyes and the first pale light of day was seeping through the drawn curtains. He was oh his back and he turned his head and looked at the beautiful face and then let his eyes travel the length of the lovely body. Nancy was on her side, facing him, and as his eyes went back to her face her eyes opened. "Good morning," he said.
She smiled. "It's a wonderful morning," she said. "Kiss me."
He kissed her. "We didn't sleep much," he said. "Are you sleepy?"
She rolled over on her back and stretched her arms over her head. "Am I dreaming?" she asked. "Did I just dream about our wonderful plans? No, I'm not sleepy."
"You aren't dreaming," he said. "It's nice to wake up and find you beside me."
"Oh, my goodness!" Nancy sat upright. "This is Monday and I didn't do my hair or my nails or-"
He reached up and pulled her down beside him, hugging her close, feeling her magnificent breasts pressing against his chest. He kissed her, greedily, and just as greedily ran his hands over her smooth body. "So what?" he asked. "From now on all you have to do is do me."
"The office," she said. "I should at least-"
"I'll give them a call after awhile," he said. He laughed. "It's early yet anyway and you're in bed with the boss-remember? No more work for you, Baby."
"Call me that again," she whispered.
"Baby," he said. "Say, you aren't getting a father complex or something!"
She laughed and felt with her hand. "I certainly hope not," she said. "Wouldn't that be disgraceful?"
He pushed himself against her. "You were gone when I woke up yesterday morning," he said. "From now on see that you are right here beside me, Baby, In this bed or another and She put her fingers over his lips. The fingers of her left hand. Her right hand was too busy. "Do you like it in the morning, too?"
"Love it," he said, against her fingers. "And I notice you said, too."
She laughed. "Not three? Let me, Mel. Okay?"
He rolled over on his back and helped her swing on top. He started to say okay, but it came out as a gasp as he was enfolded by the warm flesh. She remained almost still at first and then her lips found his as the inward motion started. He thrust his body upward and used his hand to massage her perfect breasts.
She raised her head and gazed into his eyes, lovingly, and without shame. "In a moment I will be unable to talk and I want you to know I love you even in my wildness-" her eyes started to glaze and her whole body went into motion "-and here comes the first of a series of-Oh, Mel, Mel!"
His hands went to her smooth and active buttocks, helping her, urging her on, proud of his ability to exercise and maintain control. He watched as her eyes slowly closed and to him her face remained a thing of beauty even in the contortion of unrestrained passion, Her lips found his and his eyes closed and they urged each other to greater passions and even at the explosive end they knew that it was just the beginning.
"A jet," he whispered. "We'll take a jet."
"I just took one," she said, against his throat. "The ride was super-duper, too."
"An airplane type jet," he said, laughing. "To Nevada and in a matter of hours we'll be married, Baby."
"We are married," she said.
"I know," he said, "but we will make it legal and soon."
She raised her head. "No doubts?"
"None whatsoever," he said.
"I'll be a good wife," she said. "I'll be a lady, too."
Mel laughed. "In my opinion, a wise wife will act like a lady in public and then at certain times in private with her husband she will act like a wild wanton."
"I won't have to act," Nancy said, laughing. "Maybe in public, but not in private. You know that. Do you know what I used to be called? I can't remember if I mentioned it in that stupid confession or not anyway, I was called a runaway wanton."
"You don't have to run any more," he said, pulling her close to him. "Not ever."
